


Come on with the Rain

by remivel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- High School, Barebacking, First Time, M/M, Phone Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-20
Updated: 2012-11-20
Packaged: 2017-11-19 03:44:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remivel/pseuds/remivel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Castiel was 15, his life changed. In one tragic instant, he lost his parents, and he was forced to live with his Uncle Bobby in Lawrence, Kansas. There he met the Winchester boys, Sam and Dean, who were living next door. He thought Sam was pleasant, and Dean, well, Dean was special. Three years passed and Castiel’s relationship with the boys developed in an unexpected way. Sam became his best friend. But Dean was a different story. </p><p>Dean was not Castiel’s friend. He was a neighbor, a classmate, the brother of Castiel’s best friend, and the guy who worked part time at his uncle’s salvage yard. That was all. But on the rare times that Dean asked Castiel for help, Castiel couldn’t find it in him to turn him down. Because this was Dean. And the answer would never be “no” when it came to Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come on with the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [DeanCas BigBang 2012.](http://deancasbigbang.livejournal.com/)  
> Artist: comedicdrama. Please head on over to the[Art Masterpost](http://comedicdrama.livejournal.com/5166.html) for all the lovely art.  
> Full details and acknowledgements at [Livejournal Masterpost.](http://remivel.livejournal.com/7607.html)
> 
> Chinese translation by [murasaki1203](http://archiveofourown.org/users/murasaki1203/pseuds/murasaki1203) over [HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4320174).
> 
>  **WARNING:** Please read through the tags carefully for potentially triggering elements in the story. If those items mentioned offend you in any way, please do not read further. Thank you.
> 
> As for the "Mildy Dubcon" "Dubcon" and "Rape/Non Con" tags, many agreed that the scene in question is Mildy Dubcon, which was why that was the original tag. However, since someone saw it as clearly Non Con, I have tagged for all possible interpretations of the scene. I apologize if anybody else was offended or adversely affected after reading that scene prior to the change in tags. However, if you still wish to continue despite the warnings, or opt not to read the warnings at all, then please read on at your own risk. Thank you.
> 
> Edit: Will be editing this fic heavily at some point, or else delete it, as I am no longer happy with it, or my decision to make it a non-con story. For now, please heed the warning.

**Part 1: Autumn: Sophomore Year**

 

The first time Castiel saw Dean, it was his first day living in Lawrence, Kansas. Fifteen years old and sheltered for most of his life, Castiel was left reeling when a tragic instant turned his life upside down. One drunk driver and a funeral for two was all it took, and soon, he found himself at his Uncle Bobby’s house, utterly helpless and alone, his body drained of energy and his mind a mess.

As he was hauling his bags out of the car and into his new home, he saw Dean playing catch with his brother Sam on the lawn right next door. Never one to make friends easily, and certainly not in the mood to do so after all that had happened in the past few weeks, he ignored the boys and tried to make a quick escape inside the house—only to be stopped by his uncle blocking the door and calling out to the Winchesters.

“They’re good kids,” he told Castiel, who only looked at him pleadingly. “Now, now. Don’t look at me like I’m feedin’ ya’ to the dogs here. These boys are like family to me. Say hi,” Bobby said to him before he pushed Castiel forward.

Castiel reluctantly turned his attention to the boys. Sweaty and smiling widely, the two brothers crossed the yard to shake his hand. Sam was four years younger than him, with a flop of messy brown hair, dimples on his cheeks, friendly and pleasant, but Dean… Dean was Castiel’s age, all freckles and bright green eyes and a blinding smile and just… indescribable.

From the first moment Castiel saw Dean’s face up-close, he had memorized the color of his eyes, and he spent his first night in Lawrence sketching in a small notebook and trying to color all the shades of green and blue and brown and gold he had seen.

    

                +++

    

The second time he saw Dean was at school a week later. Despite Bobby’s attempts to get Castiel to go out and just do ‘normal stuff,’ Castiel vehemently opposed him and stayed indoors as much as he could, which was probably the reason why Dean was so surprised to see Castiel in the same sophomore year math class as him.

Castiel spotted him from across the room first. He wasn’t exactly easy to ignore. He was clad in a leather jacket, a black tee, and well-worn jeans that hugged his curiously bowed legs perfectly. He looked… like fire.

There was no other way Castiel could think of to describe him at that instant. It was like he was radiating light, the colors of his hair, his eyes, and his skin brighter, more vivid than the rest. His smile was warm, inviting, attracting the other students like tiny moths. They hovered around him like it was the most natural thing to do. The way he confidently carried himself was much like a flame too—beautiful in all its raw, natural power, but not without the thrill of danger, of a wildness just lurking underneath.

And just like fire, he made Castiel feel like he was burning. He felt his cheeks flush hot and something else smoldering deep in the pit of stomach—a want, a need to be near him like the rest, to touch him and feel the heat on his fingertips, to gaze at his smile and be warmed. But Castiel gritted his teeth and averted his gaze. He did not have it in him to approach someone as bright as Dean Winchester. So when it was Dean who approached him a minute later, well, Castiel was more than surprised.

He heard Dean before he saw him. A short “hey” from Dean and Castiel’s head jerked up instantly. He was even brighter up close, and it was hard to look directly at him for too long, but even harder to look away.

The stunned look on Castiel’s face must have been a tad too much for Dean. His smile faltered for a split second just as he was about to say something, but he recovered quickly and his grin grew even wider as he spoke. He had come to ask for Castiel’s name again. 

Castiel smiled a little at that. He expected Dean not to notice or remember him, but he did. He just forgot his name, which was to be expected, so Castiel reminded him of it. That was the extent of their conversation, cut short by the untimely arrival of their teacher. But Castiel saw more of Dean that day because it turned out that they shared almost all of their classes, apart from electives (Dean chose carpentry, Castiel opted for advanced French). Castiel saw Dean almost every day after that as well, but didn’t get the chance to speak to him again.

    

                +++

     

The next time Castiel spoke to Dean was at Bobby’s auto repair shop and salvage yard that same week. Castiel had unenthusiastically gone to the shop to give Bobby a parchment that had the word “URGENT” stamped all over it. Fearing it might defeat the ‘urgent’ warning if he opted to hand it to Bobby when he returned home that night, he went against his self-imposed ‘stay indoors’ rule and headed for the yard.

To his surprise, he saw Dean there, in greasy overalls, carrying a few tools and various car parts that Castiel would not even attempt to name. He thought of hiding, or circling the yard to avoid Dean, because they weren’t friends, not at all, and it would be awkward for him to say ‘hi’. But then Dean saw him approaching and, well, it would have been a whole lot more awkward now if Castiel tried to escape. So he swallowed the nervous feeling he got whenever Dean was near and walked over to him. It turned out that he might have said more than ‘hi!’ though.

His throat suddenly went dry once Dean returned the greeting with an easy smile. Castiel froze on the spot as he tried to think of something to say. He was afraid he might say something dumb or boring and Dean would lose interest. But then Dean was looking at him like he was waiting for Castiel to speak, so Castiel finally  opened his mouth…. and talked about the different types of screws, and how he read once that a guy named Henry F. Phillips invented a screw that was used first on the 1936 Cadillac.

“You read about screws?” he remembered Dean asking him, and he replied with an affirmative and added something like “types, history, and screwing techniques” for clarification. And to Castiel’s confusion (and later on, utter amazement), Dean laughed.

It was the first time he heard Dean laugh, and that night, before Castiel went to bed, he tried recalling the way a wide smile blossomed on Dean’s face, first tugging on the right corner of his lips then on the left, the way he tipped his head back and laughed, the way he bent over slightly and clutched the tools and parts tighter to his chest as he gasped for air. And when Castiel curled on his side on the bed and cupped his hands to his ears, he could almost, _almost_ hear the sound of Dean’s laughter again. It brought a smile to his face as he fell asleep.

     

                +++

    

In the weeks that passed, Castiel observed Dean from afar and discovered for himself the little things that made up Dean Winchester.

Dean, he found, liked cars and rock music. He worshiped the ground his father’s ’67 Chevy Impala rolled on, and during his free time, he helped out at Bobby’s auto repair shop for a few extra bucks, which was why Castiel found him in the yard that day. Several times, Castiel heard rock music pounding next door. He didn’t recognize the songs or the singers and couldn’t picture the sweet and friendly little brother as the culprit for the blaring music, so he assumed it could only be Dean.

Dean, who liked to constantly tease Sam about a girl named Ruby, who played grade school pranks on Sam like tying his shoelaces together and putting a whipped cream beard on Sam’s face when the kid was sleeping on the porch. Dean, who, when he thought no one was looking, fixed Sam’s collar and brushed the dirt off his pants. He teased Sam endlessly about being such a huge nerd when Sam returned home with a 1st place ribbon for a writing contest, only to smile with so much pride once Sam turned his back.

Dean, who loved women like he loved pie: hot and sweet and in different varieties. He didn’t have a steady girlfriend, but he walked around school with different women, and when he didn’t, they sought him out and hovered around him, all giggles and batting eyelashes and twirling hair. And Dean loved the attention.

Dean, who was part of the soccer club and member of the student council, who was friends with the jocks and the cheerleaders, the popular kids, the party-goers, and even the do-gooders. He got good grades and everybody liked him, even the teachers, which Castiel would usually think was impossible if he didn’t see for himself how Dean could charm his way into or out of anything: an extended deadline for his history paper, a free pass for being late, an A+ for his unconventional English report on “The Various Depictions of Vampires in Recent TV Shows and Movies and how they Differ from Actual Lore” (apparently, you had to cut their heads off to kill them. Who knew?). Yes. Dean could do it all, Castiel thought. And with this thought came the realization of the gap, no, the chasm that separated him from Dean.

While Castiel enjoyed relative anonymity and lurking in the sidelines, Dean preferred the company of his many friends and reveled in the warmth of the spotlight. Their difference was like night and day, and Castiel also discovered, albeit belatedly, that it was silly to look at Dean the way he did. It was silly to watch his every move at school, to try and listen to the rock music filtering in from a boarded up window in his room that Castiel had surmised was overlooking a room—Dean’s room— just next door.

 At first, it frustrated him that the busted up window was covered with planks of wood, but now he was thankful it did. It served as a physical reminder of the barrier between him and Dean. He liked the reminder. It gave him control over his thoughts, control over his actions, so that the next time he talked to Dean at school when they were assigned together in a group, he talked without mentioning anything dumb or random, without stumbling over his words, without showing his emotions. And if it came off that he was being cold to Dean, with the way Dean’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead at some of Castiel’s words, then Castiel was all the more pleased with that. He did not talk to Dean again, and tried not to look at him again for days after that. He knew, of course, that his resistance would not last for very long, but he tried.

    

                +++

    

The first time Castiel faced the truth was the day that barrier came crashing down.

He had just gotten out of the shower, barefoot and in a fresh pair of boxers, a towel slung over his shoulders, his hair still dripping. He stopped by the boarded window in his room. The hinges had given out and the glass had broken months before Castiel even arrived, which was why Bobby patched it up with old planks of wood to keep away the elements until he could get around to fixing it. He never did, which was just as well. The room that window overlooked was forbidden territory—not to mention it was constantly oozing rock music even at night.

But what caught Castiel’s attention this time around was not the perpetual Led Zeppelin playing on Dean’s speakers (yes, he researched what those songs were that Dean listened to all the time, and now he could at least decipher some of them). It was the sound of an acoustic guitar playing some tune he did not recognize, and someone singing along with it.

Castiel walked towards the window and leaned on the wood to try and hear the sound better. With eyes wide, he realized the person singing with a voice that Castiel thought to be very pleasing was no one else but Dean. Dean was singing. _Singing_.

Castiel leaned both hands on the wood and pressed his ear closer to listen to Dean’s voice. Dean was singing softer now, and Castiel strained to hear him. Then he heard something crack and the next thing he knew, the old boards were splintering under his weight and he was about to topple out the window. He reared back in surprise, arms flailing around him as he fell back on the floor with a loud thud.

Dazed and a bit confused, Castiel rubbed his backside as he stood up again, and was suddenly faced with the sight of none other than Dean Winchester.

Dean was in a tight t-shirt and black leather pants, holding a guitar and propped on a stool in the middle of his room, and looking, for all intents and purposes, like he was holding a private concert for himself.  Castiel probably looked like a deer in the headlights at that moment, so it took him a few seconds to realize that Dean was looking back at him with a similarly shocked expression that quickly turned into mortification and embarrassed anger. 

Castiel was still pretty much too caught on the fact that he was looking at Dean Winchester and Dean Winchester’s room to do anything else but stare. And Dean, well Dean looked… like fire yet again. Hot and wild and so very difficult to look away from. He made Castiel’s insides burn again with the way his arms flexed as held the guitar, to the way the leather seemed like liquid against his thighs. He found those bow legs inexplicably attractive, and was still in the middle of appreciating every slope and bump when Dean abruptly stood up.

He watched as Dean scrambled to hide his guitar (he probably did not sing or play for other people, with the way he was acting), kicked the stool away then strode to his window. He glared at Castiel, who still looked back at him dumbly, and when Dean leaned out the window and opened his mouth to say something, Castiel knew what was coming next.

“If you—“

“I wasn’t planning on telling anybody,” Castiel quickly reassured him. “I doubt if anyone will believe me anyway,” he added with a level tone and a shrug he hoped didn’t look too forced.

Dean opened and closed his mouth like a fish, clearly looking for words to say.

“Boy?!” Castiel heard Bobby shout before his heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway.

Dean took this as a great opportunity to retreat, and Castiel watched him as he hastily shut his window and yanked the curtains together.

Castiel was still looking at the closed window across from his when Bobby entered the room. “What in the name of—“ Bobby said when he saw the wrecked window.

“It was an accident,” Castiel said immediately, turning to look at Bobby behind him. He was sure he would get scolded this time.

Bobby walked towards the window and peered outside to see the broken pieces of wood on the grass below.  “It’s destroyed,” he said almost in awe, and then he laughed and ruffled Castiel’s hair.

Well, that was… unexpected. “You’re happy?” Castiel asked in confusion.

“It’s the first thing you destroyed in this house. I’m glad you’re starting to get comfortable enough to destroy things,” Bobby said with a chuckle.

“And that’s a good thing?”

“Sure. This is your home now. You don’t walk on eggshells in your own home, boy,” Bobby told him. He looked at Castiel with a fond expression on his usually sour-looking face. Castiel couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips.

“Are you sure, Uncle Bobby? I might end up accidentally burning your library one day,” Castiel said.

Bobby scoffed. “Who’re you kiddin’? You love that library more than I do. So long as you put the fire out before it burns down the whole house, I ain’t complainin’,” he told the boy before pushing him towards the closet. “Now go dry your hair some more before you get sick. And put some clothes on. Imma head down the garage, see if I got some plastic to put up on this here hole you made. And tomorrow, yer helpin’ me fix this, y’ hear?” Bobby said.

Castiel nodded in response and did as he was told.

    

                +++

    

Later that night, when the window was properly covered up by an old plastic sheet and the mess of wood, splinters and nails was cleared out, Castiel looked up at his ceiling, recalling the way Dean’s voice sounded when he sang. He smiled when he remembered the almost comical look of shock that Dean had when he realized he had an audience. Castiel should have probably been embarrassed himself for getting caught spying on Dean, but all he could think about was Dean’s voice, Dean’s face, Dean’s hands on the guitar, Dean’s shirt and the way it stretched across his chest, Dean’s leather pants that were tight in all the right areas and hugged his thighs like second skin. There was that burning inside Castiel again at the mere thought of Dean, and before he even realized it, his hands were already diving under the band of his boxers.

This certainly wasn’t his first time doing this. But it was his first time stroking himself to the image of another boy, of Dean and his hands and lips and chest and thighs. Castiel gripped himself tighter, stroked faster as he imagined Dean naked and on top of him, imagined those bright eyes staring straight into his, those lips kissing a trail of fire down his throat and his chest, those long fingers on him, stroking him. Then, he imagined Dean slyly grinning at him as his thumb pressed the slit of his cock.

Castiel’s whole body jerked as he came with a cry, turning and burying his head on his pillow at the last minute to muffle the sound of his yell. He felt the warm wetness of his come spill between fingers he imagined were Dean’s instead of his.

By the time he thought of moving, he already felt too boneless to get up and change his sticky boxers. But he eventually got himself to stand up and change into the first pair of boxers he could find. Then he flopped back onto the bed before he finally let himself drift off to slumber, the image of Dean’s sly grin still in his mind, and with the last thought that, yes, he would never be able to resist. He was in love with Dean, whether he liked it or not.

    

                +++

    

Castiel had the tendency to overthink things, so naturally, when he discovered and accepted that he was in love with Dean, he thought of only two ways it could possibly go. The first one was that he will fall out of love with Dean eventually. He was only 15, and first loves rarely last for very long anyway. Maybe in a month or a year, he’d move on to somebody else, and he would be totally fine.

The second one was that he would fall even harder for Dean. He would fall and fall and when he eventually hit rock bottom, he would lie helpless and unable to get up from under the weight of Dean’s shadow. Eventually, though, when Dean was long gone from his life, he would slowly pick himself up. But he would remember the feeling of falling and of hitting the ground by Dean’s feet. He would remember Dean, and would look at no one else the way he looked at him.

He sincerely hoped it would be the first one.

But, as luck would have it, Castiel got a glimpse of which way it would go for him that same week.

    

                +++

    

Two months of living in Lawrence and this was the first time Castiel was going to a social event. Rufus Turner, a friend of Bobby and the Winchesters, was throwing a barbecue for his birthday that Saturday. Castiel, naturally, refused to leave the house again, but Bobby just muttered some expletives and stomped out of his room, and Castiel thought that was the end of it. However, when Castiel woke up that day, he found all his money as well as all the contents of the fridge and pantry missing, and a single note taped at the fridge door that said,,“Plenty of food at the barbeque. We leave at 11.” Castiel knew he had already lost that battle.

So that was how Castiel found himself sitting on the grass behind Rufus’ truck. It was parked by the hedge on the far end of the yard, quiet and out of the way, just the way Castiel liked it. He didn’t know anyone at the party, and he didn’t do so well with crowds either, so as soon as he ate a burger (which was made of all things heavenly), Castiel carefully grabbed another and excused himself from the picnic table where the people gathered, and found himself the most secluded spot in the whole house. He wasn’t good at handling normal conversations, and did not like how awkward he felt when people talked about things he didn’t know and names he didn’t recognize. Most of all, he hated it when almost every single adult would come up to him and ask him if he was alright, would tell him that they knew his father, Bobby’s younger brother, and that they were so shocked when they heard about the accident. It made him sick in his stomach. If there was anything he did not know how to handle at all, it was their pity.

As he was eating his second burger, he heard voices coming closer to the truck. He took a particularly large bite just as he discovered it was Dean (curse his luck) and a girl (probably the blonde one they kept calling Jo). They were joking with each other, and Castiel could almost picture Dean as he laughed, and he pictured the girl named Jo laughing beside him. She was about their age, or younger, sweet and pretty, and he kind of hated her for it. What a pretty pair they’d make, he thought before he ignored them and continued eating in silence. A few moments later however, his ears picked up on Dean saying his name, and his attention was drawn to them again.

“Who? Castiel?” he heard Dean say in disbelief.

“Brown hair, big blue eyes… if that’s him, then yeah,” Jo said.

“You think Castiel is ‘cute’?” Dean balked. Castiel suddenly felt slightly offended at Dean’s reaction and mostly embarrassed about what he was hearing. He tried to tune them out again, but without much luck.

“Well, in an awkward, nerdy kind of way… plus his eyes! Prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen. You know I’m a fan of pretty eyes, Dean,” Jo told him. And Castiel slumped further down on the grass to make sure he wasn’t seen. He doubted if Jo would like it if she knew Castiel was listening.

“Wait, you told me _I_ had the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen,” Dean said, and if Castiel was one to roll his eyes, he would’ve at that moment.

“That was before…” and Jo laughed. “It’s not a competition, Dean. Besides, you’re still my number one,” she said to appease him.

“I better be,” Dean huffed.

“He’s Bobby’s nephew, right? Castiel,” Jo asked. There was a pause, Dean must have nodded or something because Jo continued, “So you live next door to each other. What’s Bobby like now that he’s got someone else living with him? I bet it’s chaotic over there!” she chuckled.

“Nah. It’s almost like nothin’s changed. Bobby’s not grumpier than usual and I hardly see his nephew anyway. Never goes out. And you know what? At school, he’s the smartest guy in class, but he never speaks, never eats with anyone at lunch, and if you wanted to find him, all you have to do is look at the farthest, most out of the way places and he’ll be there reading a book alone…” Dean said, and Castiel was struck by his words. So Dean was not as unaware of him as Castiel once thought. Dean knew what he did at school. He was not invisible. Dean saw him.

“Wow, Dean, I can’t believe you noticed that much about someone else other than yourself. You must really like him!” Jo teased.

Castiel heard Dean choke and sputter (he was probably drinking something when she spoke).

“What? No way!” Dean vehemently denied. Castiel couldn’t help but nod in agreement. “That guy’s too weird,” Dean added, and Castiel would have flinched at that word if he weren’t so used to hearing it. He had been called that many times before. It never bothered him, but somehow it did when _Dean_ was the one saying it. “I mean, I get that he’s new in town and all, but man, I wouldn’t want to be caught dead at school with a guy like that,” Dean said.

Castiel suddenly felt his chest go tight, like every breath was a struggle. He shut his eyes and gripped the grass in his hands tight enough to uproot it. He wished Dean would stop there. Because really, could Castiel feel any worse about this?

“I feel awkward every time I see him at Bobby’s salvage yard because I don’t know if I should talk to him, ignore him or what, because sometimes he goes there and he just like sits in a corner and stares at me working all afternoon. It’s creepy. Now, I even miss hanging out at Bobby’s place because he’s there and even if Bobby’s still the same and the house is still the same, it feels like it kinda isn’t, anymore. You know what I mean?”

Castiel felt the color drain from his face as his chest grew painfully tighter. He knew exactly what Dean meant. Dean wasn’t comfortable with him. He missed the days when Castiel wasn’t around. He wanted _nothing_ to do with him. He wished Castiel had never come to Lawrence, never intruded in their lives. Dean wanted him gone, that much was obvious. And for the first time since his parents died, Castiel realized how alone he really was.

Tears may have fallen from his eyes then, but he didn’t notice. He waited until the throbbing pain became just a dull echo in his chest, and if there were tears, they had long since dried. He finally opened his eyes after what seemed like hours. His gaze fell on the half-eaten burger in his hand and he sighed. He lost his appetite, and he wanted a drink, but Dean and Jo were still standing on the opposite side of the truck, now talking about something Castiel didn’t know and didn’t care about.

Dean’s earlier words were still swirling in his mind long after Dean and Jo left, long after he had forgotten he wanted to drink. He wasn’t surprised by Dean’s words. He knew the guy was just being polite whenever he greeted him at the salvage yard. He knew what it meant that Dean had yet to reopen his window, or play the guitar, or play any rock music from his room after what happened the other day. He knew what it meant at school, too, when Dean would pass by him in the hallway without even the briefest glance his way. Dean was something entirely out of reach, after all. And the pain Castiel felt in his chest, well, now he knew what it meant too.

It was the first time Dean Winchester broke his heart.

 

**Part 2: Spring: Senior Year**

Castiel was woken up that day by the phone ringing. He glanced at the clock and groaned. “7 AM on a Saturday, really?” he complained to no one as he got up and begrudgingly picked up the phone from the table across the room. The voice he heard on the other line woke him up like a hard slap to the face.

“Hey, Cas!” Dean greeted him cheerily.

“Dean,” Castiel said with a sigh. He turned and sat on the edge of the bed. Dean wasn’t a friend. He wasn’t someone who would call Castiel just to chat or invite him out. Dean was a neighbor, an acquaintance, the guy who works part-time at his uncle’s auto repair shop, the guy with whom he shared several classes this senior year… he could go on. But Dean wasn’t a friend.

He was Sam’s older brother and Sam… Sam was a friend. Sam shared Castiel’s interest in books, in word games (they had a regular Scrabble match every Sunday afternoon), in historical documentaries on Discovery, and in classic musical films (Castiel preferred Gene Kelley while Sam was more of a Fred Astaire fan).

Sam was the one who called him ‘Cas’ first, and somehow along the way, Dean caught on and called him Cas during the few times when they actually had a conversation (which usually involved exchanging pleasantries and small talk about either Bobby or Sam. They never talked about themselves with each other. It would’ve been awkward).

Dean was the guy who would sometimes hover when Castiel and Sam had movie marathons at Sam’s place. He was the guy who sometimes came over to Castiel’s to discuss cars and their latest restoration projects with Bobby.

He wasn’t a friend.

Which was why there could only be one reason why Dean would call him at 7 in the morning.

“What does Sam need, Dean?” Castiel asked.

He didn’t hear a reply for a few seconds, which Castiel assumed was surprise on Dean’s part for being figured out so easily. Then he heard Dean chuckle, “Wow, okay, so that’s a ‘no’ to beating around the bush, huh? Fine. It’s the school’s spring festival today, flea market, bake sales, game booths, the spring dance…”

“I know what the spring festival is, Dean…” Castiel told him as he rubbed the sleep off his eyes.

“Wasn’t sure since you never come to these types of things… Well, see Sam promised to help out in preparing the gym for the dance and ushering in the people tonight, but he’s stuck at his friend’s house doing this big science project. Anyway, Sam told me he’ll still help out at the festival, but I told him he should just finish his project. He’s insisting he can do it and help out too but…”

“…but you don’t think he should,” Castiel finished for him.

“Well, yeah. That kid, he’s too stubborn. He thinks he’ll be less of a human being if he failed to keep all his promises…”

“So what do you want me to do?” Castiel asked Dean with another sigh. “Help him with the project or help out at the festival in his stead?”

“Uh… the festival thing…” Dean answered. “… but only if you want to,” he quickly added. “I figured he’d give in and just stick to his project if I got someone to replace him… but it’s such short notice and there isn’t—“

“Okay. What time do you need me at school?” Castiel cut him off. This was probably one of the longest conversations they ever had, and one of the biggest requests Dean had asked of him. Dean never came to him for help unless there was absolutely no one else to help him. And Dean never asked personal favors. It was always for Sam, never for himself. Castiel was Dean’s last resort when it came to his little brother. And it was usually just little favors for Sam whenever Dean couldn’t do it himself, especially this senior year when Dean was elected as their class president. Pick up a book for Sam at the library, help Sam with research, lend Sam a decent tie for his speech. And every single time, Castiel said ‘yes’. Partly because Sam was his friend, and partly because Dean was, well, Dean.

“Wait. You’d go to the spring festival to help out?” Dean asked in disbelief.

“Why do you sound surprised? That’s what you wanted right? Someone to help out instead of Sam.”

“Yeah, right, right. Just… at the gym, 1 o’clock. You don’t need to bring anything. All the stuff’s already there.”

“Got it. 1, at the gym,” Castiel confirmed.

“Great! Thanks, Cas.”

“Mm-hmm,” Castiel just said just before he hung up. He flopped backwards onto his bed and stared at the off white ceiling. It wasn’t like he was free all day. He had a paper to finish, and he had to pack some of his stuff to give to his distant aunt from Canada early the next day. But he said ‘yes’ to Dean anyway. Really, what was wrong with him?

    

                +++

    

“You’re whipped,” was what Gabriel so poetically told Castiel later that day in the gym. Gabriel was roaming aimlessly in the festival when he spotted Castiel gluing back the glittery Styrofoam letters of a sign that met an untimely death in the hands of a clumsy freshman. What was supposed to read: “SPRING DANCE SPONSORED BY ALUMNI OF CLASS ‘87”, now read: “RING DA   SORE  Y UM   ASS ‘ 7”, which Gabriel thought was the work of an evil mastermind, not an unfortunately uncoordinated student.

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Castiel just said, trying to ignore Gabriel looming over him as he worked quietly in a corner of the gym that was otherwise buzzing with people putting up decorations.

“Oh, come on. One call from him and you come running to the rescue every single time,” Gabriel said, plucking a few pieces of confetti from a bowl and flinging them at Castiel’s hair.

“It’s for Sam,” Castiel told him, but even he knew himself that that was not entirely true.

“Psh, right.”

“What about you? What are you doing here anyway?” Castiel asked Gabriel.

“What? Can’t I visit my old high school every once in a while?” he said before he grinned and flopped beside Castiel on the floor to toy with the letter S.

Gabriel graduated from their high school the year before and was now a freshman at Kansas University. He was eccentric and unpredictable, the Class Clown of his year, and he was once the president of the Film Club that Castiel was a member of. For some reason beyond Castiel’s comprehension, Gabriel had developed a keen interest in his personal business. Of course, that one time when Gabriel saw him clearly pining for Dean didn’t help his cause either.

It happened during his second year: Castiel was looking out the club room window and spotted Dean shirtless and playing soccer in the school field. He just stood there slack-jawed for a good half hour before Gabriel came up to him and said, “Winchester’s hot,” and Castiel’s head betrayed him and nodded in agreement before he could stop it. He was mortified the moment he realized what he just did, and Gabriel just laughed heartily and patted him on the back. “Don’t worry. You’re not the only one who’s got the hots for that guy. Trust me,” he told him. “Although I myself prefer someone who’s a little less Captain America and a little more Thor, if you know what I mean,” Gabriel said with a wink.

Castiel did not, in fact, know what he meant, but after that, every time Gabriel saw Castiel, he would tease him endlessly about Dean. The older guy never told anyone else, as far as Castiel knew, and he even gave Castiel some useful advice a few times before. “You’re so obvious sometimes, you know that? If you’re so adamant about him not finding out, then I suggest you stop looking at him like you’re going to hump his leg the moment he gets within five feet of you,” Gabriel had said once, and since then Castiel had been more careful about following Dean with his eyes. After all, Dean did say that time that Castiel’s stare was creepy.

Dean’s words from that day at Rufus’ birthday party had never left Castiel’s mind. They were etched there whether he liked it or not, and they served as a reminder of the barrier that stood between them, a reminder far stronger than the once boarded-up window proved to be. After all, Dean’s words could never be pulled apart, destroyed, and replaced with something new. They would stand until Dean himself broke them, and Castiel held no false hope of that ever happening.

    

                +++

    

Castiel was shaken out of his momentary journey into the past by Gabriel snickering beside him. He looked at the smaller man’s hands, which were now playing with the letters that was supposed to form CLASS. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Look, look…” Gabriel said excitedly. “I can form a sentence using the letters of CLASS. Here…” he said, removing and adding the letters a few times, “CAS’ CLASS ASS” he said, snickering again and looking expectantly at Castiel.

Castiel frowned. “That’s not even a sentence, Gabriel.”

Gabriel pouted and flicked another piece of confetti at Castiel, which hit him on the cheek. “You’re just feelin’ sour ‘coz you went here hoping to impress the prez but you haven’t seen him for hours,” he said before rearranging the letters again and, “Now here’s another ‘not sentence’ for you, “CAS’ SLAC ASS.”

“Would you please stop forming phrases about my ass?” Castiel said as he grabbed the letters from Gabriel’s hands. “You could at least help me with this instead of distracting me.”

Gabriel smirked. “But I’m a guest here! And it’s so much more fun to distract you.”

Castiel tried ignoring Gabriel after that, and for a few moments Gabriel was content to glue glitter all over his fingers. Then his interest in the glitter ran out, and he turned his attentions to Castiel again. “So, ever thought of changing tactics? Hmm?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, you know, instead of crying into your pillow every night about how you’d love to get it on with Dean Winchester, you could try telling the man himself. He does live right next door to you, right?” Gabriel suggested.

“Uh-huh,” Castiel said as he carefully glued the N back in DANCE. “And what makes you think I’d want to do that?”

“Hey, you’re graduating soon. You’ve got nothing to lose, right? Best case scenario, he confesses his undying devotion to you, you indulge in some hot, steamy sex for the next few months, and you leave for college with a great memory and lots of experience,” Gabriel said with his usual sly grin. “It’s the perfect arrangement!”

“You’re forgetting the worst case scenario part of your argument, Gabriel,” Cas reminded him.

“Oh that, well, worst case scenario, he goes totally homophobic straight guy on you, tells the whole school, tells your _uncle_ , everybody starts looking at you weird, old church ladies will whisper behind your back, blah blah blah…”

“You’re insane,” Castiel told him. “Dean is _not_ homophobic. A couple of his soccer teammates are together and he seems fine with it.”

“Sure he’s fine with it since they’re not gay for him. Believe me, some straight guys claim they don’t hate gays but the minute a gay guy confesses to them, BAM! It’s crazy eyes and a punch in the face for you!”

“Dean isn’t like that,” Castiel insisted, shaking his head.

“If you think that way, then what the heck is stopping you?”

“It’s not that simple, Gabriel,” Castiel said. “Sam…”

“Oh right, I forgot about your BFF. So what? The real worst case for you is if Dean never talks to you again, never lets you talk to his _brother_ again for fear of you corrupting his mind, and preying on his brother’s hot piece of ass…”

“Gabriel…” Castiel warned.

“What?!” Gabriel asked. “Oh right, forgot. Sometimes you’re more protective of that kid than his older brother. Fine, fine. I promise not to voice out any inappropriate thoughts about Sam Winchester, frequent and plenty though they are, to his unofficial guardian angel, Castiel,” he said, making a show of raising his right hand as if taking an oath. “No, but seriously, you’re not gonna do anything about your big gay crush because you’re afraid of losing Sam?”

Castiel didn’t reply to Gabriel’s question. He just continued gluing the letters back onto the board.

“No wait, scratch that. You’re afraid of losing them both. That’s it, isn’t it? You’ve struck this delicate balance with Dean already, not friends, not enemies. You’re coasting along, getting your kicks with just seeing him from a distance every now and then, but if you confess it might turn totally south and you might end up losing him and Sam. You might end up not seeing them at all. Well, geez, that’s just…” Gabriel sat there stunned for a moment, as if the realization hit him so hard, he didn’t know what to do with it. “…stupid,” he added after a while.

Castiel gave a small smile. “To Uncle Bobby, Sam and Dean, they’re like sons… they’re the closest thing I have to a family now.”

“Ugh,” Gabriel peeled off a layer of dried glue and glitter off his index finger in disgust. “I get it, I get it. You’re screwed. But there’s really no point in keepin’ this ‘family’ of yours intact if you’re leavin’ them anyway.”

“I’d like to think I would still have a family in Lawrence to return to if I ever got the chance.”

“Are you sure you won’t change your mind then?” Gabriel asked.

“Change his mind about what?” someone suddenly asked them.

Castiel’s head jerked upward so fast he saw static and stars before his eyes focused on Dean standing before them, carrying a couple rolls of fabric. ‘Oh god…’ Castiel paled when he thought Dean might have heard them talking about him, but Dean just looked at them, expectantly waiting for an answer.

He heard Gabriel chuckle, clearly unsurprised and unruffled by Dean’s sudden appearance. “Oh nothing, Deanie-dearest, just askin’ Cassie here for a date and he turned me down. Me!” Gabriel said, looking absolutely affronted by idea.

“That so?” Dean humored Gabriel and gave them a smile that Castiel couldn’t quite label. Amused? Annoyed? Appalled? Castiel didn’t know what it was, but there was something off about Dean that day.

“Yeah. So, you know, I thought I should at least get a kiss for my efforts to woo him,” Gabriel told Dean.

And before Castiel could react and tell him off, Gabriel leaned in and kissed him. On the mouth. Just a quick smack that lasted for a split second, but for Castiel it felt like the world slowed down on its axis just to prolong his agony.

“Gabriel!” Castiel growled, immediately wiping his lips with the back of his sleeve.

But Gabriel was already up and walking away by the time Castiel finished saying his name. “Ciao Cassie, Dean, I’m gonna head out for a few minutes to look for a dashing date for tonight’s dance,” he said before disappearing into the throng of busy people walking around the gym.

For a few awkward seconds, Dean and Castiel remained quiet, Castiel fidgeting with a bunch of the letters and Dean just standing in front of the sign in repair. Castiel felt himself relax the moment Dean broke the silence.

“You and Gabriel are close, huh? I never see you talk much with anybody else besides him. And well, Sam.”

Castiel looked up at Dean again in surprise. “Huh? Gabriel? No, no. That guy’s a nightmare,” Castiel told Dean and looked back down just as quickly, as if he were afraid another second of looking at him might make Dean uncomfortable again.  “I’d like to avoid him as much as I could.”

“Right,” he heard Dean say. “Well, I just came over to see how the sign was doing. When you’re finished with that, you can ask one of the freshmen to hang it, and then come find me by the buffet table. I’ll give you something else to do before all the people come in.”

“Sure,” Castiel answered, focusing all his attention on getting the letters glued straight that he didn’t even glance at Dean again until he walked away.

He released a breath he didn’t know he held when Dean left, and berated himself for how awkward he became whenever Dean was in front of him. It infuriated him how, despite his best efforts to control his emotions, Dean could still unravel him with just one look. He had gotten better after three years of this, but now his mind was muddled again because he wouldn’t have any more of whatever ‘this’ was after graduation. Within months, Dean would no longer be there to distract him, to make his emotions go awry. He could go back to the way he was before, serious and logical and unaffected by anyone around him. It might sound great, yes. But deep inside he knew he’d rather have ‘this’ than have nothing at all.

    

                +++

    

To everyone’s delight, the dance went smoothly and everybody had fun. Well, mostly. Castiel of course, wasn’t very keen on having fun anyway. Plus, he was working at the registration table where Sam was supposed to be assigned for the night. He collected tickets, asked people to sign their names, and escorted some of them inside. Gabriel found a busty blonde for a date, which he overheard Dean praising as a ‘clear 10’.

He saw less of Dean during most of the dance until about 9 when Dean came back out to the registration table bringing boxed dinners for everybody who was still working. Castiel thought Dean looked tired, stressed even, and the smile that he usually used to flash generously to everyone was scarcely seen. It had been a really long day for everyone, so the dinner of pasta with meat sauce and a couple pieces of hot wings was welcomed by all those who helped out.

“Here,” Dean said to Castiel as he handed him one of the boxed meals.

Castiel opened it and saw that his had white sauce and fried chicken instead. He looked up in surprise at Dean, who just shrugged. “I remembered Sam once told me you preferred white sauce and you can’t stand anything remotely spicy, so I got you that instead,” Dean explained in a serious tone. When Castiel didn’t react, Dean suddenly said, “Or I remembered it wrong. I could still get you the same food as theirs—“

“Sam told you?” Castiel said in disbelief, wide eyes still trained on Dean’s face. The “and you remembered?!” hanging heavy in the air.

“Uh…yeah,” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand. “I only remembered because I saw the hot wings and everyone was fallin’ all over themselves trying to get them at the buffet table and I remembered Sam telling me you hated them and just… man you’re missin’ out.”

“Oh.” Castiel didn’t quite know how to react to that. He was still stuck on the fact that Dean knew his food preference. Dean. “Well, uh, thanks,” Castiel just said, finally averting his gaze and settling it on the food in front of him.

“Great,” Dean said, and his voice lacked a bit of its usual strength. Maybe he was really tired already. “Because I’m pretty sure we’re all out of hot wings and I was gonna insist you eat that anyway even if I got the food wrong.”

“No, you got it right. I’m good,” Castiel told him, his eyes never leaving his food. He was afraid if he looked at Dean again, he might never take his eyes off of him.

“Great,” he heard Dean say again. “Well, eat up,” Dean said to the room before Castiel felt him walk away.

This was another thing that infuriated him. How Dean could give him these crumbs every now and then, enough to fan the flame back to life just as it was dying. They were like little gestures that might mean nothing to Dean or to others, but were like tiny rays of hope for Castiel. Sometimes Castiel wished that Dean would just crush him entirely, hurt him with his words or with his actions, whether he knew it or not. But it never happened. Each time Castiel felt his heart ache for Dean, there would be moments like this that kept him hoping.

There was that blue tie he got from Dean last Christmas, one that matched the color of his eyes perfectly. Granted, Dean gave it as a replacement for a blue tie he had borrowed from Castiel just a few weeks before for another of Sam’s speeches: a blue tie that was ruined due to an unfortunate incident involving hot sauce that neither of the brothers wanted to talk about. But still, it warmed Castiel’s heart that Dean was the one who gave it to him as a present and not Sam.

Then there was that one time when there was a thunderstorm and Dean gave Castiel a ride home from school in the Impala. They hardly talked on the short ride home and it was just as well for Castiel because he was much more comfortable with silence. Besides, he was happy enough that he got to share the car with Dean, who had just officially earned the right to drive the Impala this senior year when his dad gave it to him as an early graduation present. Granted, Dean invited most of his friends to ride with him during the first few days he had the car in his possession, so Castiel knew this wasn’t anything special.

Then, just the other day, when Bobby and John left for their annual week-long fishing trip, Dean had come over the house to give him a take-out bag with two burgers in it. Sam told Dean to give it to Castiel because Dean bought dinner for himself and for Sam, who as it turned out, had already eaten out with some friends. Granted, it wasn’t Dean’s idea to give Castiel food, but just the fact that Dean had come over himself to give it to him made Castiel’s heart pound yet again. Did he mention they were burgers? Because Dean plus burgers was a lethal combination for him. If Dean had asked Castiel to sell his soul to him, he would have done it within an instant.

Now, pasta with white sauce and fried chicken weren’t as potent as burgers for Castiel, but he still felt a small smile form on his lips as he took his first bite. Because all the other times made Castiel feel a little bit more special in Dean’s eyes, but none more than this.

    

                +++

    

By the time the dance ended promptly at 11pm (since it was in school grounds and no late partying was allowed), Castiel was beat. He was about to leave when he felt a hand land on his shoulder. He turned around and saw it was Dean.

“Hey, don’t leave just yet. Let me get my things and you can catch a ride with me back home,” Dean suggested.

Castiel just nodded before Dean disappeared into the gym again.

Dean’s things, as it turned out, consisted of several bags of tools and other materials that they used to decorate the gym. It took up the whole trunk and Castiel had to take a couple of trips from the gym to the Impala just to get all of them. So by the time they had hauled every single item inside the car, Castiel had already guessed that one of the reasons, if not the only reason, that Dean thought to give him a ride was so that he could help carry the stuff back into the house. It didn’t bother Castiel because the ten minutes it gave him alone with Dean as they drove home was more than what he could have hoped for.

The silence that settled on the Impala that night, however, wasn’t like the time before. It was heavier, the look on Dean’s face darker, like he was thinking of something very serious, and Castiel didn’t like that particular look on Dean. He looked almost angry now, not tired or stressed like before. It set Castiel’s nerves on edge, worrying that something terrible might have happened that he didn’t know about. To Bobby and John, or to Sam.

When Dean turned the ignition off, he moved both his hands to the steering wheel and gripped tight. “Would you mind…?” he didn’t need to finish the sentence for Castiel to know what he meant.

“Oh, yeah, sure…” Castiel agreed, opening the car door and stepping out. Dean got out of the car soon after, and the silence fell on them again as they hauled most of the stuff inside the house and down the basement. “Sam… isn’t here yet?” Castiel asked when he noticed the house was empty.

“Yeah. He called, said he’d sleep over at his friend’s house,” Dean explained. “Those go up to my room,” Dean pointed at the duffel bags Castiel was carrying. He didn’t ask Castiel if he could bring them up to his room, he just picked up another bag and turned to walk up the stairs. Castiel followed Dean to his room and deposited the bags near the bed.

When Dean moved to the door to close it behind Castiel, the alarms in Castiel’s head went off and he knew for sure that something was wrong. He felt trapped, cornered, and he swallowed nervously as he slowly turned back around to face his captor. Dean had his back on the door, arms crossed on his chest, the look on his face was positively ominous, and suddenly the room felt too small, the air too heavy to breathe. “Is something wrong?” Castiel heard himself saying weakly.

“Bobby called me last night,” Dean said with the same grim expression.

And Castiel felt his face pale. “Why? What happened to my uncle?” Castiel asked, panic rising in his throat.

A dismissive hand and an irritated look was what Castiel got as a reply from Dean.

“So nothing’s wrong with them? They’re fine?” Castiel asked.

“Yeah, yeah. As far as I know, they’re catchin’ some great fish out there,” Dean told him, his eyes never leaving Castiel’s face.

“So what’s the problem, then? Why’d he call?” Castiel asked, and he can’t help it if his tone became a bit impatient. Dean was acting weird and he wasn’t telling him why.

“He asked me if I could give you a ride to Kansas City tomorrow,” Dean just said.

And just like that, Castiel knew what this was all about, so he took a deep breath to steady himself. “He did?” he asked, managing to keep his voice steady.

“Yeah. You mind explainin’ to me why your aunt is taking some of your things to Canada?”

“Uh… she works in an airline. She gets free extra baggage…” Castiel said in a tone he hoped seemed indifferent enough.

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean growled, and the force in his voice made Castiel jump. “Why is she taking your stuff back to Canada in the first place?” Dean asked, and Castiel didn’t know if he should answer or not. It was obvious Dean already knew why. “You’re leaving Lawrence,” Dean finally said, his tone grim and accusatory.

Castiel was surprised by Dean’s reaction. He was furious, but Castiel wasn’t so sure why. He felt his heart start pounding harder in his chest. “I don’t see why that should be a problem,” he answered as calmly as he could.

Dean pushed himself off the door and walked closer to Castiel, stopping just a few paces away. “I thought I heard from Sam that you got accepted to Kansas University. So you could imagine my surprise when Bobby suddenly tells me you’re leaving for Canada once you graduate,” Dean told him.

“Why should it concern you whether I leave here or not?” Castiel asked him defiantly. Because really, why was Dean looking at him as if he was being betrayed by Castiel?

“Because I care about Sam, okay? And I care about Bobby!” he growled. “You’re leaving, and you haven’t even told Sam,” Dean continued. “The kid’s gonna be so disappointed. You’re like his best friend! And Bobby, man Cas, he treats you like his own son! The last time I’ve seen him this happy was when his wife was still alive. And you’re just gonna leave? Run off to friggin’ _Canada_?” He spat out his last words like it stung his tongue. And if Castiel thought Dean was furious before, well, he was beyond furious now.

“You don’t understand,” Castiel said, shaking his head.

“Oh really? Tell me, Cas. What don’t I understand? You gotta give me something here…”

“My great aunt promised to put me through college, but I have to study in Vancouver, okay?” Castiel told him, frustration now evident in his voice. “I can’t stay here. Uncle Bobby’s already havin’ a tough time paying the bills with me here. He can’t afford to send me to college,” Castiel added.

“Then get a damn loan, or a scholarship. If that’s still not enough, then get two or three part time jobs. Heck, that’s what I’m planning to do. You don’t just up and leave your family like that. And Bobby? Trust me, he’d rather have you here because he’d at least have someone else to look after besides himself.”

Castiel didn’t know what to say to that. When he made the decision to leave for Canada, it had seemed like the only option. But now that Dean’s putting it like that, he suddenly felt like he was making a mistake. “It’s not that easy…” Castiel just said.

“Of course it isn’t Cas! But you’ve got Bobby and Sam here. They’re practically you’re family. That’s gotta count for something,” Dean said. He never said “you’ve got me” but it was starting to get clear that he meant that as well, and it threw Castiel for a loop.

“Why are you being like this?” Castiel whispered in disbelief, clearly at a loss with what to do. He sank to the edge of the bed, still staring wide eyed at Dean.

“Stay, okay? Just because…” Dean said, and his voice was softer, almost as if he were pleading.

Castiel averted his eyes and shook his head. It was too much. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Dean looked at him sitting there looking lost and Dean growled in frustration. He leaned down, caught the sides of Castiel’s face with his hands… and kissed him.

The moments between Dean’s action and Castiel’s reaction stretched on for an eternity. Castiel was too shocked to move, to think. For a moment, he thought he had skipped everything, had gone back home and once again imagined Dean kissing him. But no, he realized. He was not daydreaming. The feel of Dean’s mouth on his, hot and demanding, was too real to ignore.

Then there were his hands, big and calloused, one on his jaw while the other moving to the back of his head. Dean was kissing him harder now, tongue dancing circles in Castiel’s mouth, and still he could not react, except for a small moan that escaped his lips the moment Dean’s teeth came down on his lower lip. And that moan only fueled Dean to push him to lie down on the bed while Dean moved and straddled his hips. The moment Dean moved his hands to pull off his own shirt was the moment Castiel realized he should react. Right about now.

“W-wait!” Castiel squeaked, feeling out of breath and weak all of a sudden.

“What?” Dean asked in irritation as he pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor.

“What are you doing?!” Castiel asked, his voice still weak. And he knew he should’ve asked Dean this the moment he started kissing him, and not now when he was lying on Dean’s bed with Dean on top of him.

“You’re leavin’ right? Then this is perfect,” Dean said, his voice low and ominous again and so very wrong. Dean leaned down and started kissing him again, and Castiel knew his brain would be fried and useless in seconds.

“Dean?” he managed to breathe out when Dean moved to spread kisses down his jaw and neck.

“Let me fuck you,” he heard Dean say, and Castiel’s hands flew out from his sides to push Dean off of him. Because that should not be as hot as it was, but it made his blood rush down to his cock and it frightened him. His effort to dislodge Dean was futile and only managed to jar Dean from completing his trail of kisses down Castiel’s throat.

“You’re not serious, are you?” Castiel asked in disbelief. Mostly because he had pictured this a thousand and one times before, but not like this. Not with Dean looking like he was going to murder him or devour him alive.

“I’ve always wanted to try it with a guy,” Dean murmured even as he sucked at the skin just above Castiel’s collar. “You like guys, right?” Castiel heard Dean say.

“I I-don’t…” Castiel began. He was thinking of saying “I don’t like guys, I like _you_ —“ but Dean interrupted him with a chilling chuckle as he leaned back again and looked at Castiel through hooded eyes. Castiel shivered in fear. This was a Dean he didn’t know. Didn’t understand. And although he had dreamed of this moment countless times before, he certainly had no illusions about it being remotely possible. But then, he glanced down and saw the crotch of Dean’s jeans tented and unbelievably straining. Dean was hard. And on top of him.

And damn if Castiel can get any harder from all of this. Because despite himself, and despite feeling this was all wrong, he still felt a thrill at hearing Dean’s voice, at feeling the solid weight of  Dean’s body on top of him.

 “Come on, Cas.” Dean began unbuttoning Castiel’s blue shirt.  “I’ve never seen you with a girl. I’ve seen you with _Gabriel_ … and Gabriel only sticks to his kind…” Dean said before giving up and practically tearing open Castiel’s shirt. “So I’m pretty sure you’re gonna like this,” Dean smirked.

“Dean…” Castiel could only breathe out his name in what he hoped sounded like a protest.

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing…” Dean said. And Castiel might’ve found enough strength to protest that he hadn’t been thinking about that at all. But when Dean breathed into his ears words he never wanted to hear, he felt his energy drain from him and he was utterly defeated.

“You should feel lucky you’re getting to sleep with me,” Dean said to him before capturing his lips again in a kiss, his hands roaming around Castiel’s chest and gliding down his stomach.

And Castiel let him. Castiel stopped fighting and let him. Because Dean told him the one thing he didn’t want to hear. That he was lucky Dean chose him. Because this was _Dean_. And that was the truth.

Castiel closed his eyes and held back the tears he knew were coming. Not because he didn’t want this, but because despite Dean’s harsh words, he was right. He felt lucky Dean even looked his way, and he felt like he could cry because no matter how hard he tried to hide it, he still loved Dean very much. He wanted to cry because of how much he still wanted this, all of this, despite everything.

Castiel watched as Dean’s expression changed, like a switch was flipped inside of him the moment Cas relented. When Cas started responding to his touch, a wrecked sound escaped Dean’s lips as Castiel’s every shiver and every moan only made him hungry for more.

Castiel arched his back when Dean toyed with his nipples, and Dean sputtered and cursed as a surge of arousal went through him like electricity.  Dean snaked his hands under Castiel, grabbed his ass and pulled his hips up to grind against his.

Castiel’s eyes flew wide open in surprise, only for them to roll to the back of his eyelids at the feeling of Dean’s jean-covered erection against his, the pressure of Dean’s hips thrusting downward even as Dean’s hands squeezed harder around each mound of his ass. It was almost painful, and before Castiel realized it, his hands had already reached out to Dean’s upper arms and gripped tight.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean’s voice was strained. He felt Dean move on top of him and his hands left their hold on his ass. He missed the contact immediately, and by the time he cracked his eyes open, Dean had his own pants open and was already pulling out his cock and stroking, his eyes closed and muttering ‘shit,’ and ‘fuck’ over and over again.

 A small whimper escaped Castiel’s throat, because _that_ was the hottest thing he had ever seen, and Dean’s eyes snapped open at the sound. Dean looked at Castiel lying askew on his bed, dark hair disheveled, eyes heavy-lidded, parted lips swollen and bruised and just begging to be kissed again, chest splashed pink and heaving, arousal tenting his jeans… and Dean just lost it. He made quick work of Castiel’s belt and pants and pulled them down along with his boxers before he could protest.

Castiel felt the breath get knocked out of him when Dean grabbed his hips, pulled him higher onto the bed and flipped him onto his stomach like a ragdoll, pants still tangled at his knees. He felt Dean shift, the bed dip to the side, heard a drawer open and close, and then Dean’s back again.

And then a hand was back on Castiel’s hip, pulling him up on his hands and knees, Dean’s chest pressed against his back, a kiss on his nape, Dean’s other hand snaking down to stroke his erection, and stars in his eyes and ringing in his ears. Then suddenly the hand on his hip was no longer there, and there were fingers, wet and slippery, tracing the cleft of his ass, a finger pushing in without warning, and Castiel couldn’t breathe. Everything was happening too fast. It was uncomfortable, even painful, but it was _Dean_.

Dean’s finger pushing deeper into him, Dean’s other hand stroking him, Dean’s lips leaving open mouthed kisses down his back like he was worshipping Castiel’s skin. And Castiel couldn’t help but shiver and just feel. Because no matter how angry and cold Dean was before, he was almost gentle with Castiel as he eased another finger inside him, as he stroked down Castiel’s cock, as he kissed the small of Castiel’s back. And despite Dean’s words that he just wanted to try it out with a guy, Castiel can’t help but think more of his careful, tender touches, and his lingering kisses. Dean was giving him crumbs once more, and it made Castiel’s heart clench. Dean was crushing him and then giving him hope again. It was too much…

And then Dean withdrew his fingers and suddenly there was something slick and hot and hard and heavy pressing against Castiel’s hole, and stars burst into galaxies behind his eyelids as Dean’s cock pushed in. He felt tears slip down his cheeks at the excruciating pain, like he was being split in half and rammed to a wall at the same time and his erection waned considerably.

And Dean continued to push in until he was fully seated inside Castiel. He took a shaky breath and waited all but 10 seconds before he began thrusting, rough and hard and frantic and intense. Dean panted a litany of incoherent curses, of ‘fuck’ and ‘Cas’ and ‘shit’ and ‘tight’, and gripped his hips hard enough to bruise. Castiel just shut his eyes, prayed the pain would go away, prayed Dean would get what he wanted from this, prayed Dean would still want him after this.

Then Dean’s cock pressed against something inside him, blinding pleasure mixing with the pain. His whole body jerked, eyes flew wide open and a moan escaped his lips as his erection started to return to full force.

“Fuck Cas,” Dean gasped. He leaned down, pressing his chest against Castiel’s back again, and licked the sweat behind Castiel’s ear. “So hot,” Dean murmured, and he angled his hips to hit that spot over and over, and Castiel jerked, his hands gripping the sheets tightly as he moaned again and again. And Dean smiled against his skin, chuckled a “You like that, huh?” against his ear, and thrust harder, deliberately dragging the head of his cock against Castiel’s prostate every single time. And all Castiel could do was moan.

One more touch of Dean’s hand on his cock, one more hard thrust against that spot and Castiel was beyond lost. He felt his body burn and freeze at the same time, the breath escaping his lungs in a strangled gasp, his hands clenching tight enough to tear fabric, eyes widening to epic proportions as the sensations slammed at him all at once. He was coming all over the sheets even as Dean’s hand continued to drag up and down his cock.

His arms collapse beneath him, and his head fell on the pillow—Dean’s pillow. His knees would have followed if not for the tight grip of Dean’s hands on his hips keeping his ass angled up as Dean continued to thrust into him.

Castiel’s mind no longer registered the exact moment when it happened. Dean might’ve continued thrusting frantically for a few more seconds, a few more minutes, an hour, he didn’t know. Through the haze, he might’ve heard Dean cry out, he might’ve felt the slam of Dean’s hips as he buried himself balls deep in him, and he might’ve whimpered at the feeling of Dean’s come rushing inside him, filling him. He didn’t remember.

 But as Dean slipped out and released his grip on Castiel’s hip and collapsed beside him in a sweaty, panting heap, Castiel remembered, and could recall with perfect clarity, the feeling of warmth blooming in his chest. Because despite everything that happened, Dean had just found his release inside of him. Dean chose him tonight. And for that moment, Castiel remembered feeling happy. Happy and incredibly lucky. Because this was Dean. And there was no hope of this ever happening again.

    

                +++

    

Later that night, Castiel found himself back in his room without any recollection of how he got there. He eyed the open suitcase at the foot of his bed wearily. He ignored it for the moment in favor of a hot shower.

Working on automatic, he removed his clothes, stepped under the spray and scrubbed soap all over his body. He winced as he felt come drip down his thighs, noticing for the first time the ache in his ass. And if he scrubbed his skin harder with soap and rinsed himself longer, he didn’t take notice.

He dried himself and put on fresh clothes. He spied the window by the side, now fixed and overlooking Dean’s room. Castiel strode purposefully to the window and watched the stillness of the curtains in the other room before pulling his own curtains closed.

As he arranged some of his clothes, several books and other personal belongings in the suitcase, he told himself he was doing the right thing. This was what he wanted. He had no regrets. He had just spent a few brief moments in Dean’s bed, which was more than he had ever hoped for. He was happy. But as he carefully rolled and packed the blue tie Dean gave him, his vision grew blurry as tears fell unhindered down his cheeks. And he knew that he really wasn’t okay.

    

                +++

    

The next day, Castiel went on as if the night before was only a figment of his imagination. He met with his distant aunt, whom he had only ever seen once before, when he was a little boy. She was the daughter of Castiel’s great aunt, the one who promised to put him through college because she apparently favored his mother among her nieces. He ate brunch with his aunt at a small restaurant, she asked about school, he answered politely.

An hour later, he watched her walk away with his suitcase in tow, and he thought about how there was no turning back now. After he graduated, he’d be flying off to Canada as well, and he would probably never see Sam or Dean again.

When he returned home that afternoon, Dean was waiting for him at his doorstep, his back leaning against the door. “I promised Bobby I’d drive you…” Dean said in lieu of a greeting. His voice was hoarse and quiet, as if it took effort for him to make a sound.

Castiel dragged his eyes away from Dean’s face as he walked closer. Looking at him gave Castiel an uncomfortable feeling inside his chest, and he stopped several feet away. “Uh, I already met with my aunt,” he said.

“Yeah, I know. I, um, woke up late. You were already gone,” he heard Dean say.

“Uh-huh,” Castiel said as he watched the old man a couple houses down the street mowing his lawn as if it were the most interesting thing he had ever seen.

“So… your stuff…”

“Probably already on a plane bound for Vancouver,” Castiel supplied.

“You’re really leaving, huh?” Dean asked with a bitter smile on his lips that Castiel just barely saw from the corner of his eye. Dean took a deep breath. “Look…” he said, pushing himself off the door and nearer to Castiel.

Blue eyes focused their gaze back on Dean, and Dean stopped. “You don’t owe me anything Dean. As far as my uncle is concerned, you did drive me to Kansas City. Don’t worry about it,” Castiel said, and he wanted to shrug, make it look more like he didn’t care, but found that he couldn’t. He pretended to be ignorant of Dean struggling to get something off of his chest. He didn’t want to hear what Dean had to say just yet. Sorry? Forget about it? It was a mistake? I don’t know what came over me? I’m not gay, really? It was just that one time? It’s not gonna happen again? Don’t tell anybody, okay? There were a thousand and one things Dean could have said to him, but he wasn’t ready for the illusion to be shattered. Not yet. Because no matter how much Dean may have regretted the night before, Castiel didn’t.

Dean looked like he was about to say something when Sam leaned out their living room window and yelled out for him. “Dean! Did you use my boxers again?”

Dean looked in frustration at Sam, then back at Castiel, and Castiel just gave him a small smile. “Sam’s walking around your house without underwear. You should probably check up on that,” he told him.

“Uh,” Dean said, after opening and closing his mouth several times. “Yeah, I should…” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Don’t tell Sam okay,” Castiel said when Dean walked past him.

Dean turned around just as Castiel did. He looked like he was going to puke. “A-about…” Dean began tentatively, almost nervously.

“Canada,” Castiel supplied.

“Uh, Canada, right,” Dean said, the tension easing off his shoulders a bit.

“I’ll tell him myself,” Castiel said. “Later. At Scrabble,” he added.

Dean just nodded, turned back around and continued walking back to his own house.

The second Castiel shut the front door behind him, he leaned on it with his head tipped back and his eyes closed. He didn’t realize how difficult seeing Dean again would be after the night before. Because he thought he was already happy, lucky even, to get that one night with Dean, even if it wasn’t an entirely pleasant experience and Dean wasn’t acting like himself. But the moment he saw Dean again, saw those same bright green eyes that he fell in love with three years ago, he knew he was doomed. Once was good, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

    

                +++

    

Scrabble with Sam that afternoon turned out exactly like Castiel predicted. Sam was confused at first, then he was angry, and when Castiel explained the situation, he was frustrated. He stormed back into his house, leaving the game unfinished and Castiel to pick up the tiles Sam knocked over in his outburst.

Sam appeared at Castiel’s doorstep that night, apologetic, just as Castiel predicted as well. But what he didn’t predict was Sam holding out a Tupperware with a couple slices of apple pie inside. “I’m sorry I got mad at you. Peace offering?” Sam said as he handed the container to Castiel.

“It’s okay Sam. And thanks, but you didn’t have to—“

“Nah. Now just take it before Dean changes his mind and suddenly runs out here to take it from you. That’s the last of the pie,” Sam told him with a chuckle.

“You didn’t steal this from Dean, did you?”

“No. He gave it up willingly. Plus, he already ate three slices today. He’s stressed or something and I had to protect him from himself.”

“Okay then,” Castiel said as he turned and walked back inside the house to place the pie inside the fridge.

Sam needed no invitation to follow him inside, and he lingered at the threshold of the kitchen. “But this still doesn’t mean I’m okay with you leaving, alright?” Sam clarified.

“I know,” Castiel said as he rearranged a couple of food items in the fridge to make room for the container. “At least you’re not mad anymore?”

“No. Not mad, but… Cas, you can’t go,” Sam said with a pout and those puppy-dog eyes he usually used on Dean. Only in his first year of high school and already he was catching up to his brother’s height. A little more and he’d be taller than Castiel, but he still looked very young to Castiel, and now, very hurt. “You could just stay… I’m sure with a part-time job, a loan or something, you could attend college right here. You don’t have to leave,” Sam told him.

And Castiel could only smile at that. “Dean said the same thing,” he mumbled to himself as he closed the fridge and turned to face Sam.

“Dean. Dean knows about this?” Sam asked.

Castiel was a bit surprised Sam caught what he said, but he composed himself. “Yeah, Uncle Bobby kinda let it slip the other day.”

“And he said you should stay,” Sam said, and Castiel wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement.

“Uhh… I guess… I don’t know… why are we suddenly talking about Dean?” Castiel asked.

“Because my brother wants you to stay, and I want you to stay, and I don’t even need to hear it from Bobby to know that _he_ wants you to stay…”

“Sam…”

“So stay. You’re one of us. You’re family. That’s gotta be reason enough, right?” Sam asked him, almost pleadingly.

Well, Castiel didn’t know what to say to that because it touched his heart more than he cared to openly admit. That Sam thought he was family was something he never knew he needed to hear so badly. It made him rethink his decision again, made him think twice about leaving, despite all that had happened. So now, he was overwhelmed, and confused, and so deeply touched that all he could do was smile as he looked at Sam with what he hoped was an expression that he appreciated everything Sam had said and that he wanted Sam to stop making that kicked-puppy face on his account. Because nothing was more heartbreaking than Sam and his puppy-dog eyes.

“Just… think about it okay? There’s still plenty of time before you graduate. You can still change your mind.”

“Sam…” Castiel said again.

“Please. Consider it. Just tell me you’ll consider it, and I’ll stop asking you about it.”

And Castiel relented. “Alright. I’ll consider it.”

“Great,” Sam said with a wide grin. “Okay, I gotta go now. I’ve still got a paper to write—“

And Castiel’s eyes grew wide upon hearing that. “I almost forgot. So do I!” he gasped.

“You forgot to write a paper? That’s new,” Sam chuckled.

“Almost. The keyword is ‘almost.’ Now go,” Castiel said, literally pushing Sam out the door. Sam waved goodbye to him before he jogged back to his own house.

    

                +++

    

The days that followed flew by in a blur for Castiel. He shared several classes with Dean, but everything was the same between them. They didn’t talk to each other unless necessary, Dean ignored him for the most part, and Castiel tried (and failed) to limit his gazes towards Dean.

After that night, he thought it would be easier to forget Dean, to ignore him. But it turned out to be harder because every time he saw Dean, he remembered how his lips felt like against his, how those hands glided down his skin, how wrecked his voice sounded when he was aroused and panting. And he found himself tearing his gaze away like it burned his eyes, only to seek out Dean’s shadow a second later.

Bobby returned from his fishing trip later that week, slightly sunburned and exhausted. He asked Castiel about his meeting with his aunt, and Castiel told him it went well. Bobby just grunted and walked past him to the kitchen to get a drink. And maybe it was Dean and Sam talking inside his head, but he noticed for the first time the way his uncle’s frown seemed deeper, heavier, with the mention of him leaving. All this time his uncle never said anything and just supported his decision to leave. Now he realized he didn’t need to say anything. It was clear on his face.

    

                +++

    

“Please… the game’s gonna end soon…” Chuck pleaded to Castiel, who only looked at him with a blank expression.

“You don’t like soccer,” Castiel pointed out. There was a not-so-friendly soccer match going on in the field with their rival school, and a lot of the students were there watching instead of attending their club activities. The Film Club members were no exception.

“Well, yeah. I never understood the sport. But that’s not the point. If I don’t get there in time, I won’t be able to catch Becky…” Chuck added. Chuck was part of the Film Club and the Writer’s Club, and apparently, wanted to get into the Becky-club as well.

“You knew this, and yet you decided to ‘rearrange’ the tape collection anyway?” Castiel said in mild irritation. There was a sea of video tapes strewn about on the table, most of which were on-loan to the club from its members.

“Yeah, I was lookin’ for a title…”

“Casa Erotica 13 was Gabriel’s, and it was since banned from being brought into the club room…” Castiel stated mechanically, as this was a speech he regularly delivered.

“What? No! I wasn’t looking for—never mind. Please, I need to go there. Like, right now. I promise to make it up to you…” Chuck pleaded, shifting from one foot to the other impatiently.

Castiel looked at wide-eyed and desperate Chuck, then back at the mess of tapes and sighed.  “Yes. Fine. You may go,” Castiel finally relented. Who was he to stand in the way of their love?

“Thank you, thank you!” Chuck said before he bolted out of the room, leaving Castiel in the empty club room with dozens of tapes to sort out.

Distant cheers echoed through the empty room, and Castiel walked to the window to catch a glimpse of the field and the crowded bleachers. He couldn’t see the players because of all the people surrounding the pitch but he knew Dean was there playing. He used to occasionally watch the soccer team’s games, but today, he just couldn’t bring himself to go there and see Dean. So he turned his back to the window and began the task of organizing the tapes.

Ten minutes into arranging the tapes, he found one that he hadn’t watched in a long while. He popped it into the VHS player and sat on one of the chairs as it played.

He was pretty far along in the movie when the door to the club room opened. Thinking it was just Chuck, he ignored the newcomer and just continued to watch the movie. Then he spoke.

“You like that guy, huh?”

Castiel spun his head around so fast he was seeing stars. Then again, it could just be because he saw Dean standing by the door in his soccer tracksuit, a towel slung over his shoulder and his hair still damp from a shower.

“Dean,” Castiel said breathlessly. There was no reason for Dean to be there. So why was he?

Castiel swallowed the lump in his throat as he recovered himself from the shock of seeing Dean so unexpectedly. “Shouldn’t you be at the game?”

Dean had a sheepish expression as he walked in a couple of steps. “Oh, yeah… It was over like half an hour ago. We won 3-1,” Dean said with a lopsided grin.

Castiel looked down on his hands resting on his lap. “That’s… uh, good to hear,” Castiel said, watching his hands fidget with the hem of his shirt.

“Yeah. I got the first goal in,” Dean supplied in a tone that almost sounded like he was seeking Castiel’s approval.

Castiel looked up at Dean. He was a few feet closer now, lingering by the tape shelf on the side of the room. “That’s great,” Castiel said, and he offered up a small smile just in case he sounded unenthusiastic about Dean’s good news.

“Thanks,” Dean said with a nod.

A few seconds of silence went by and Castiel realized they were staring at each other and averted his eyes immediately.

Dean cleared his throat. “So… that guy… he’s your favorite, right?”

“Who?” Castiel asked on automatic, and when he realized Dean was looking at the TV screen, he turned his attention back to the TV. It was Gene Kelly kissing Debbie Reynolds goodbye by the doorstep, his black umbrella over their heads. “Oh. You mean Gene Kelly?” He asked as he looked back at Dean.

“Yeah. I’ve seen you and Sam watching some of his movies at home,” Dean told him.

“He is among my favorites, yes,” Castiel answered. “But why are you asking about him?”

“I dunno,” Dean said, his eyes casually roaming around the room as he took another step closer. “Just… I saw the light was still on, and I took a guess that you were still here probably watching some old movies again, and I was right,” he answered honestly.

“Oh,” Castiel just said. He didn’t know what to make of that. Because this, right here, was surreal. “I should probably pack up anyway…” he said, standing up from the chair and walking to the TV. He stopped the movie in the middle of Gene Kelly tap dancing on the pavement. 

“Listen…” he heard Dean say. And Castiel knew that tone, had been dreading hearing it all week. But he knew he had to get it over with, had to let Dean say whatever he wanted to say. He knew he couldn’t stay in that illusion he built around that night forever. So as he placed the tape back into its case and killed the TV and the player, he braced himself for what Dean was about to say.

“…about that night…” Dean said.

Castiel realized Dean was much closer this time and he turned around to face him. He gasped and took a step backwards in surprise when he saw Dean just an arm’s length away from him now.

Dean must have interpreted Castiel’s reaction as a sign of fear for he froze mid stride, his eyes going wide in alarm before he cursed. “Dammit!” he spat as he spun around on his heel and took a couple of steps away, only to turn back around to face Castiel. He ran a shaky hand through his hair as he muttered to himself, “This isn’t supposed to happen like this.” He glanced back at Castiel with a bitter smile on his face. “Don’t look at me like that...” he said. His voice was rough, but it wasn’t threatening. The “…please, Cas,” that came after was even more wrecked and almost desperate.

Castiel didn’t understand what Dean was saying, so he closed his eyes and shook his head. And when he opened his eyes again, Dean had already crossed the distance between them. He caught Castiel’s mouth in a kiss, pushed him to the wall beside the TV where he pinned him with his body and continued to kiss him with a hunger and desperation that left Castiel reeling.

By the time Dean pulled away, Castiel was dazed and breathless and his hands clung to Dean’s arms tightly. Dean’s sharp “Fuck!” jolted Castiel out of his daze and he stared with wide eyes as Dean closed the distance between their faces, not to kiss him again, but to bow his head and lean his forehead on Castiel’s shoulder.

“Dammit Cas, why are you like this?” he heard Dean say, his voice even more wrecked and breathless. And Castiel was overwhelmed with how Dean sounded in that instant, like guilt was eating him alive and he was in physical pain because of it.

“I…” Castiel tried to say. He didn’t know exactly what he was planning to add to that. He was confused yet again by Dean’s actions so he wanted to say something, anything, just to get that pained edge out of Dean’s voice, but Dean beat him to the punch with another curse.

“Fuck... Cas…” he said before he lifted his head to look at Castiel’s face up-close. “I don’t… know what to do anymore…” he said, his voice breaking a few times. “Why are you like this?” he repeated.

Castiel gulped before he formed the words, “Like what?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Like this!” Dean gestured, his hand swinging widely to the side. “God, Cas. Get mad at me! Kick me, punch me, pull out all my hair, whack me on the head with a book, I don’t know! But don’t be like this. Why aren’t you doing anything? You should be cursing me and beating me up and fucking clawing my eyes out by now for doing that to you,” Dean let out in one long outburst. But he seemed to have lost steam along the way and he slumped back, forehead resting on Castiel’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you fight me? Why did you just let me?” he continued, softer this time.

And Castiel understood. He understood what Dean wanted from him that instant. He wanted to be punished—to get the retribution he knew was coming his way. But there was no retribution. No punishment. Castiel closed his eyes and placed a hand on Dean’s back. “Because it’s you,” Castiel said with a sigh.

Dean didn’t think he heard it correctly so he asked, “What?” He pulled away to look at Castiel’s face and saw Castiel’s eyes were shut.

 Then Castiel opened his eyes and looked up and straight into Dean’s. “Because it’s you doing it to me. You...” Castiel paused and took a deep breath. “I can never say ‘no’ to you.”

When Dean froze and just looked at him with wide eyes and a slack jaw, Castiel continued. “I do everything that you ask. I always come when you call, Dean.”

Dean blinked and clutched Castiel’s shoulders as realization finally started to set in. “Wait… are you saying what I think you’re—shit, Cas. All this time? You’re not… you don’t hate me?” Dean stared back at him in disbelief.

Castiel shook his head. “I could never hate you. Not for anything,” Castiel said with a small smile. “When you wanted to try sleeping with a guy on a whim and you picked me, I was hesitant, I admit, but I still said ‘yes’.  Just because it’s you.”

And Dean blinked again, his surprise suddenly morphing into seriousness. “Wait. It wasn’t a whim, alright?” he told him, his eyes never leaving its gaze on Castiel’s face, his hands holding Castiel’s shoulder’s tighter, as if anything less would make Castiel disappear from his sight. “Shit, Cas, I didn’t want to just try it out with a guy, and it was _never_ on a whim,” he said, before he raised a palm to wipe his face in frustration. “I lied then. God, I don’t even know what I was thinking. I-I panicked, okay?” Dean admitted.

“Panicked?” Castiel repeated.

“Yeah. Panicked. I found out you were leaving all of a sudden and I didn’t know what to do to make you stay and I didn’t want to lose you but you kept on saying you can’t stay and it just made me so mad and I realized _you_ were in my room, and you were there sitting on my bed, I just got really confused and _bothered_ and—shit, I wanted to be with you so bad then that my mind just stopped working after that,” he tried to explain, the words stumbling one after the other in his rush to get it all out. Then he took a deep breath and continued. “Look, I know nothing I say will ever justify what I did. And I’m sorry Cas… for being such a dick… for hurting you… for just, for everything,” he said, holding Castiel’s gaze the whole time.

It struck Castiel how sincere Dean sounded despite the disjointed apology, and he felt his face starting to grow hot with a blush as Dean’s words started to sink in. “You don’t want to lose me? You wanted to be with me?” Castiel said softly, as if repeating Dean’s words would help him make more sense of them.

Dean looked at Castiel and realized, for the first time, how his words must have sounded. He was terrible at talking about his feelings, and to hear it being repeated to him made him all kinds of nervous. He had very little practice in the feelings department, and it made him uneasy. But despite this, Dean swallowed the lump that suddenly formed inside his throat and spoke, in what he hoped were adequate words to express what he felt. “I’d like to keep you for as long as I can,” he said, his voice soft but sure.

Castiel felt a pleasant warmth bloom in his chest at Dean’s words. The warmth engulfed his face and a smile formed on his lips, and for some reason, his vision began to blur as well. And without another word, Dean suddenly drew him in for a tight hug.

“Aww, Cas, come on. Please don’t cry. Not because of me,” Dean said.

“I’m not crying,” Castiel said before he buried his face on Dean’s shoulder.

“Sure you’re not,” he heard Dean say. “Come on Cas… I don’t know how to handle you crying…”

But Castiel did not reply. He just snaked both arms around Dean and hugged him in return.

“I’d like to keep you too,” Castiel whispered against Dean’s shoulder.

Then Dean pulled back to look at Castiel’s face in disbelief. He wiped the streak of tears on Castiel’s cheeks and leaned in again until their noses were barely an inch apart. “May I…?” he asked this time.

And Castiel didn’t exactly know what it was he was asking, but he nodded. It was never a ‘no’ when it came to Dean anyway.

Dean closed the distance between them, and their lips touched in a soft, innocent kiss that seemed to last forever. In that space of time, Castiel tried to take note of all the things he wasn’t able to catalog in his mind the first time they kissed. How supple Dean’s lips were, how Dean smelled of soap and faintly of grass, how he tasted like his favorite dessert, all cinnamon and apple and freshly-baked pie, a taste Castiel found he couldn’t get enough of. He started to lean into Dean, pressing his mouth against Dean’s a little more. It seemed to spur Dean on and soon his tongue was coaxing Castiel’s lips open. Once Castiel’s lips parted, Dean dove in hungrily, licking and mapping the contours of Castiel’s mouth. Castiel’s tongue flicked tentatively over Dean’s, and Dean answered by eagerly sucking on it.

Overwhelmed by the taste and the smell and the feel of Dean on him, Castiel’s hands moved to comb through Dean’s short hair, and Dean smiled into the kiss and withdrew his tongue, only to nip lightly at the swell of Castiel’s bottom lip. The action dragged a sigh from Castiel’s throat and Dean returned his mouth full-on to Castiel’s, tongue diving in to swirl and lick stripes along Castiel’s tongue.

The moment they finally broke apart, dazed and panting, Castiel licked his lips, already missing the feel of Dean’s mouth on his. He looked up at Dean’s eyes, and Dean looked right back at him as a wide smile formed on his face. “We’re a couple of really big idiots, aren’t we?” he chuckled.

Castiel laughed lightly. “Yes, I think we are.”

Dean pressed his forehead against Castiel’s and the sound of his laughter filled Castiel’s ears. It made Castiel feel light and giddy, until his momentary high was shattered when Dean moved away from him and dropped his hands from Castiel’s shoulders. “Okay,” he paused to take a deep breath. “I gotta go.”

“What?” Castiel was confused, and he reached out a hand to grab Dean’s arm to stop him from walking away. “Where’re you--?”

Dean looked at him as if he was missing something very important, and laughed nervously. “I don’t know. Maybe go for a run? All I know is I can’t stay here…”

Castiel blinked, tilting his head to the side. Now he really wasn’t following. “Why?”

“Because I’m this close…” bringing his thumb and forefinger within a hair’s breadth from each other, “…to taking you home with me and doing everything I can to make it up to you, if you know what I mean,” he explained, with a lopsided grin and a mischievous twinkle in his eye at the last part.

“Oh,” Castiel whispered in realization.

“Yeah. So you see why I can’t. It’s too soon after all the crap I did to you and I don’t think I even deserve to—“

“So why don’t you?” Castiel heard himself say before he realized it. That was probably the boldest thing he had ever said and he gulped nervously at the inscrutable look Dean gave him.

“You…” Dean began, then he grinned nervously again. “…you’re not seriously—“

“Dean…” Castiel said slowly, stepping forward, “…Why. Don’t. You?”

Several seconds passed, and with each tick of the clock, Castiel could hear his heart pounding inside his ears. Then Dean took a shaky breath and looked at him seriously. “Okay. Let’s get out of here  before you change your mind,” Dean said quickly, almost comically, and Castiel couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of him as they rushed out of the room with Dean holding onto his hand.

    

                +++

    

Entering Dean’s room again after almost a week made Castiel a bit queasy. He remembered the anger in Dean’s eyes, remembered the callous way Dean held him at first, and remembered the pain. But now, Dean was kissing him like he was something heavenly he couldn’t get enough of. Now, he was snaking his hands under Castiel’s shirt to glide over him like he was worshipping every inch of his skin. And Castiel knew. He knew he would soon forget their first encounter, and remember this second time instead, commit to memory each moment, each kiss, each touch, and recall vividly how Dean stole his heart again.

It wasn’t without much effort on Dean’s part, of course, to try and erase his first mistake, to replace every wrong with several rights. Castiel could tell Dean was trying to make good on his promise to make it up to him, but Castiel was just elated to be with Dean again that if he just stood there and did nothing, Castiel still would have forgiven him anything. And it was bad, really, he knew he was screwed when it came to Dean, knew for years the effect Dean had on him. But never had he experienced the full extent of it, not until now, when he and Dean had shucked their shirts somewhere between the door and the bed, when Dean pushed him on the bed and deftly unzipped his jeans, and when Dean took Castiel’s cock in his hand and engulfed him in the wet heat of his mouth in one fell swoop.

“Oh god!” Castiel gasped, back arching off the bed and hands flying to the back of Dean’s head as he started bobbing up and down on his cock. “De-e-an,” he breathed brokenly, resisting with all his might from rolling his eyes up behind his eyelids in pleasure. He wanted to look at Dean, to watch as his pink lips stretched around him, to watch as Dean’s hand gripped him at the base, his thumb lightly stroking the skin on the underside. He wanted to remember how Dean looked, even as he withdrew his mouth from Castiel’s cock, stared back at him with a lazy smile, and darted a tongue out to lick at the slit.

“You should see yourself,” Dean said, chuckling, his breath ghosting over the head of Castiel’s penis before lapping at the pre come pooling at the tip. “God, Cas,” Dean breathed. “I could come just from looking at you,” Dean said.

Castiel shuddered, toes curling as Dean continued to suckle on the tip, hand stroking near the base. “H-how…” Castiel began, shuddering again when Dean’s tongue traced the underside of his cock. “…how can… y-you…”

Dean stopped and looked up at Cas through thick lashes, “How could I what?” he asked, his usual lopsided grin forming on his face.

“…how can you… even talk?” Castiel said breathlessly, and Dean laughed.

He sat up, right hand never leaving Castiel’s skin as it moved up to smooth over his belly, to draw teasing circles around a nipple, even as he leaned forward and captured Castiel’s mouth for a kiss.

Castiel could taste himself on Dean’s tongue, mixed with the sweet, apple pie flavor that he had come to associate with Dean’s mouth. It was intoxicating, robbing him of another level of his consciousness until he could barely think straight, could barely recognize the words Dean breathed into his mouth when they parted from the kiss.

“Talking… it’s a distraction. If you haven’t noticed…“ Dean said, gesturing to his other hand, the one currently gripping the base of his own cock jutting out from his unzipped jeans. “… I’m about ready to come.”

“Then come,” Castiel said bluntly as he reached out a hand to stroke at Dean’s cock just above his own hand.

“Fuck, Cas!” Dean gasped, partly from surprise and partly from the onslaught of sensation. For a moment, Dean was out of it, shutting his eyes and lolling his head forward, his jaw falling open to breathe heavily near Castiel’s ear. Then his hand moved, stopping Castiel’s hand on his cock. “Jesus, stop. Okay?” Dean said in alarm, voice going a full octave higher at the last syllable. He took a deep breath as he very gently extricated Castiel’s hand from his cock. “I want to get this right. Please. Let me get this right?”

And for the second time that night, Castiel understood what Dean wanted of him. What Dean needed. Why he was lavishing him with attention, with careful touches and fervent kisses. This was something Dean felt he needed to do to make up for his mistakes. So Castiel just nodded and let him.

Dean smiled at that before he got up to rid himself of his jeans and boxers completely. Castiel swallowed as he watched the unintentional striptease Dean performed right in front of him, and thought that he might not be as patient as he thought he was. Absently, Castiel’s hand inched downward to stroke at his erection, and he let out a moan at the first contact of his hand where Dean had so abruptly left him mere minutes ago.

This got Dean’s attention, and he muttered a “Fuck, that’s hot,” before he moved to kneel at the foot of the bed. He grabbed the waistband of Castiel’s jeans and boxers where they bunched awkwardly at his thighs and pulled them down slowly. He leaned down and kissed a path from the dip of Castiel’s hip to his thigh to his leg, paying attention to each inch of skin he revealed on his way down until he removed the garments completely.

Castiel continued to stroke himself as Dean moved to the other leg and kissed his way up. He had to swallow the saliva that pooled in his mouth as Dean moved higher, closer to where he wanted him to be.

Dean did not disappoint this time, and returned his attentions to the center of Castiel’s pleasure, the center of his fucking universe, now that Dean was lavishing open mouth kisses down the length of it. When Dean’s hand moved to cradle his balls, Castiel promptly lost the battle and had his eyes rolling into the back of his eyelids before he could stop it. “Let me,” he heard Dean say before he pried Castiel’s fingers away from his erection and gripped it with his hand instead.

He felt Dean pump a slow, languid pace, up and down his cock, driving him crazy. His hands gripped the sheets on either side of him, breath now coming in heavy pants. He felt Dean’s mouth move, felt his tongue lick a path down from his cock to his balls, and even lower, a hand pushing his thighs further apart, until his mouth was _there_ , kissing him, licking along the crevice, teasing at the puckered hole with his tongue.

“Oh god!” Castiel gasped, and he was gone.

He felt the crackle of lighting pass swiftly through his veins as he came with a cry, his back arching completely off the bed, his cock jerking even in Dean’s grasp and painting spurts of come all over his stomach and chest.

The sight would have been enough to send Dean over the edge too, but he held on, steeled his reserve and watched Castiel come undone in front of him. He wanted nothing more in that instant than to breach him again, to push his way in, to drive himself so deep inside him and color his insides with his come. But instead he took a deep breath and moved up the bed, kissing Castiel’s neck and jaw and cheek and brushing aside the sweat-soaked tendrils of hair that fell over Castiel’s eyes.

Even through the white haze of his vision, Castiel could see the look on Dean’s face, could see the urgency in his features, the deep, boiling desire in the way he licked his lips, and the silent permission he was asking in his eyes. And Castiel placed a weak, almost boneless hand at the back of Dean’s head to draw him in for a kiss.

It was like Dean was starving, kissing him with so much hunger it made his nerves spark again, low in his belly. When they parted, breathing into each other’s mouths, Castiel stared into Dean’s lust-blown eyes and answered him with a nod.

That was just the thing Dean needed, and Castiel watched him as he reached into the side table drawer and pulled out a bottle of half-full lube, hands fumbling a couple of times with the cap until he successfully popped it open. He watched as Dean climbed on the bed again and knelt between his thighs, his vision zeroing in on Dean’s cock, solid and heavy as it slapped against his stomach when he moved. It sent shivers down his spine in anticipation, his fingers clenching and unclenching on the sheets as he braced himself.

Then Dean was liberally coating his fingers with lube, letting it drip down to the sheets in his haste, and Castiel wasn’t so out of it as to just watch him idly. He planted his feet on the mattress and spread his thighs wider, egging Dean on.

Dean froze and stared slack-jawed as Castiel moved, entranced by the view and the irresistible invitation it posed. Of Castiel breathless and flushed, the blue of his eyes a thin outline on a sea of black, his come still painting an obscene portrait on his skin, his thighs spread wide like a fucking offering laid out before him— it was hotter than any porno Dean has ever seen, and he had to suck in a breath as he tore his eyes away. He turned his attention back to his hands, hissed as more lube dribbled down his trembling fingers to the sheets. He inched forward, fingers tracing the rim of Castiel’s tightly clenched hole. His gaze moved up to meet Castiel’s, briefly seeking permission before he pushed the first finger in.

Castiel’s breath hitched at the intrusion. He shuddered as Dean pushed the digit in further only to pull out almost completely before slowly pushing it all the way in again. It was insane how each bump of a knuckle set Castiel’s nerves tingling, how he shivered when Dean curled his finger experimentally. It did not feel this electric, this intense the first time, and when Dean accidentally brushed that spot with a pad of his finger, Castiel’s thighs jerked involuntarily from either side of Dean and he gasped for air like he was suffocating. He was only getting started, and already Castiel felt like he was dying.

Dean’s finger probed him inside for what seemed like ages before Dean carefully pressed in a second one. By this time, Castiel was panting heavily, his erection returning full-force, laying hard and heavy against his stomach. Dean was having a struggle of his own, had been ever since they started, but he kept his desires at bay, squeezed the base of his cock to prevent himself from coming just from the sounds Castiel was making.

He pushed both fingers in as deep as he could, spread them in a scissoring motion and watched Castiel, waited for the look of rapture on his face when he deliberately dragged his fingers over that bump of nerves inside him. It made Castiel moan again, toes curling and hands flying to clutch at Dean’s arms, to stop him or to urge him on, he didn’t know.

By the time Dean eased in a third finger, worked it in deeper beside the other two, Castiel was shivering, moaning Dean’s name and a litany of broken pleas. The hands on his biceps gripped harder, Castiel’s voice was rough and wrecked as he ground out, “Enough—god, Dean, please…” And that was all the encouragement Dean needed.

He pulled his fingers out and fished the bottle of lube from the mess of sheets. Dean wasn’t surprised to see his hands shaking, whole body thrumming with anticipation as he dribbled more lube on his hands and on his cock. He stroked once, twice, and nothing more, afraid to end this too soon. He leaned in, pushing Castiel’s thighs further apart and folding them down to his chest. He felt a surge of lust hit him when Castiel decided to be helpful again, hooking his arms under his knees to hold them in place for Dean. “Fuck,” Dean groaned, because can anybody blame him if he shot his load too soon with Castiel looking like _that_?

And with an urgency he had never felt before, Dean positioned himself at Castiel’s entrance and pushed in.

Dean groaned loudly, his eyes rolling to the back of his eyelids as Castiel’s hole stretched to accommodate him, engulfed him in a tight heat that felt indescribably glorious, made his knees weak and made it hard for him to even breathe. “Fuck, Cas… it’s… fuck…” he tried to say as he slowly inched in further. The moment his cock was swallowed completely, Dean paused and slumped over Castiel, panting heavily.

Castiel let out a low groan the moment the blunt head of Dean’s cock breached him. He had prepared himself for the pain that would come with the intrusion, but found that it was nothing like their first time. The stretch was far from unpleasant and now there was hardly any pain, only his nerves singing, sending electricity crackling throughout his body as Dean continued to push in. “Dean…” he breathed out as Dean slowly filled him. He didn’t know it could be like this, could be this intensely pleasurable, and when he felt Dean’s balls press against his ass, felt the entire throbbing length of Dean’s cock inside of him, he knew nothing would ever feel as good as this.

Dean, slumped over him, started pressing open mouthed kisses against his neck and panting a broken string of words and curses, of “fuck,” and “Cas,” and “shit,” and “hot” as he began to move. Short, shallow thrusts at first that sent shockwaves coursing through Castiel’s body. Then, he leaned back, grabbed hold of Castiel’s thighs for purchase as he started to thrust in earnest. Long, deep strokes that sent pleasure crashing through Castiel every time the head of Dean’s cock dragged over his prostate.

The onslaught of pleasure left Castiel reeling, unable to find the strength to hold on to his legs, he let them hang in the air, let Dean hook them over his shoulders as he drastically picked up the pace of his thrusts, pounding into him relentlessly. Castiel was gasping and moaning uncontrollably now, Dean’s name falling from his lips like a prayer as each thrust pushed him impossibly closer and closer to the edge. When Dean leaned over him and folded him in half with his feet pointing at the ceiling, Castiel’s neglected erection brushed against Dean’s belly, sending sparks erupting in Castiel’s vision and jolts of pure white heat running up his spine. A hoarse cry escaped Castiel’s throat as his body arched off the bed and he came violently again, bursts of come splashing between their bodies.

“Fuck!” Dean cursed sharply. His pace became frantic as he continued to thrust into the sudden unbearably tight clamp of muscles around his cock. It was too much, and one more thrust into Castiel and he was coming with a yell, hot spurts of his come coating Castiel’s insides and filling him to the brim.

    

                +++

     

The abrupt force of his orgasm blindsided Dean, and for a brief few seconds, he had lost himself completely, no idea of where he was at, no name to call his own. Nothing but the feeling of every pore on his body tingling and of the comforting warmth of a body beneath him. He nuzzled his face into this source of warmth, circled his arms around it, keeping it close to his chest, until the haze began to lift from his mind and he remembered. _Castiel_.

Dean smiled as he moved his mouth to languidly kiss Castiel’s lips. He slipped out of him gingerly, rearranging their limbs into a more comfortable position as he collapsed beside Castiel on the bed. There was just about enough room on the double bed for the two of them to sleep side by side in, but it was better than a single. And if Dean happened to scoot closer and let Castiel’s legs hook over his, well, Dean liked to think it had more to do with trying to comfortably fit two gangly teenagers on the narrow bed than actual cuddling.

“Shit, Cas… If I had known you actually liked me, I would’ve made a move earlier,” he remarked lazily.

“I’ve liked you from the start,” Castiel said as he shifted on the bed, head turned slightly towards Dean.

“What?” Dean asked, propping himself up on an elbow and throwing a genuinely surprised look towards Castiel. “You’re kidding me, right?”

Despite the exhaustion lying heavily on Castiel’s eyes, he still managed to blink and look up at Dean with his big, round eyes. “I am not… kidding you,” he answered awkwardly.

Dean studied his expression for a second before surrendering and plopping back on the bed. “Well, fuck me. How come I never knew?”

Castiel frowned. “How about you?” Castiel countered. “How come you never let on that—“ Castiel stopped, suddenly feeling like he had jumped to conclusions. He was so used to Dean barely recognizing his existence that the idea of Dean liking him back still sounded foreign to him.

“Let on what? That I like you?” Dean finished for him. “Well, sorry if I found it a tiny bit confusing and difficult to admit that I have a crush on my brother’s best friend, especially since he’s a guy and I’ve never liked a guy before.”

It was getting difficult to follow this conversation because Castiel was steadily swaying closer to sleep, but he got the gist of what Dean said and he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “So how… did you know how to do all that?”

Dean turned to look at Cas, a sly grin forming on his face. “I borrowed gay porn tapes from a couple of my soccer teammates. For reference. They assumed it was for a paper,” Dean said with a shrug.

“You learned how to do all that from watching porn?” Castiel asked, because really, it was kind of hard to believe.

He was prevented from hearing Dean’s answer by the door suddenly bursting open and Sam walking into the room.

“Hey Dean, I saw Cas’ bag downstairs, where is—OH MY GOD!” Sam gasped, one hand still on the door knob while the other one flying to cover his eyes.

“Jesus Sammy!” Dean yelped, grabbing the sheets—soiled sheets—and draping it over him and Castiel haphazardly. “You can’t just barge into my room like that!”

Castiel’s sleepiness was suddenly banished and he curled into the sheets tighter, bracing himself for Sam’s outburst or big, gay, freak out. However, it never came.

“Yeah, are you guys covered?” Sam said calmly.

Dean made a sound in his throat that could have been anything, but Sam took it as a yes and removed his hand from his eyes. The look he gave them was only of mild surprise and a tinge of irritation. “Okay. There are just 3 things I’d like to say before I scrub my eyes with soap…” his tone was just like his usual conversational one, and it left Dean and Castiel speechless. “Number 1. Dean. Your door has a lock. I suggest, no wait, I insist, that you use it. Number 2. Dad called, said he will be coming home tomorrow afternoon instead of today. And last, and most importantly, number 3. My brother and my best friend!” He said the last item with a loud voice that made Castiel think the freak out was sure to come next. It didn’t.

 Sam looked at Castiel and Dean, barely covered by a thin sheet, and just shrugged and returned to his unaffected tone. “Can’t say I’m that surprised though.”

“Huh? You’re not—“ Dean was abruptly cut off by Sam’s almost uninterested tone.

“I’ve known you my whole life, Dean, and Cas, you’re my best friend. I probably know a few things about you guys that you don’t know yourselves. You should really start giving me some credit.”

Dean’s jaw dropped and Castiel stared at Sam with round, saucer-sized eyes.

“Okay? When you guys are finished cuddling or whatever, I bought dinner. Burgers. You’re welcome to join me downstairs,” he said, walking out into the hall and closing the door behind him, only to reopen it a split second later. “Oh and by the way, Dean, you’re doing the laundry. I am NOT going anywhere near those sheets,” he said before closing the door for good.

Dean turned to Castiel with that same look of surprise on his face. “Am I the only one that feels violated about that?”

Castiel stared at the comical look on Dean’s face and laughed. Dean looked at him quizzically. “No. I’m serious. How does he know all that he knows? No, wait I know. My brother’s been creepin’ on me. That’s it. He probably watches me while I sleep. Or peeks in the shower when I—“

“Dean!” Castiel gasped before laughter overtook his capacity for speech.

“Seriously,” Dean insisted, although by this time, he was already chuckling as well.

    

                +++

    

Dinner went better than expected. Sam wasn’t acting weird around them, which made Castiel and Dean feel a little weird around each other. When Sam finally put his foot down and declared, “As much as I appreciate you guys not groping each other in front of me, please, don’t avoid one another like the plague either. It’s getting old.”

“We’re not—“ Dean was quick to argue, but Sam just silenced him with his “Puh-lease” look.

“That’s been like the whole deal with you two from the beginning,” Sam added sagely. “I guessed it was either you two hated each other’s guts or you know…” he said with a shrug, and Dean was thankful Sam didn’t continue that thought. Until, of course, he did. “… You’re in love with each other,” he said before taking a sip of his Coke.

“O-kay. I get it Sammy. We get it. Let’s not talk about that, huh?” Dean said, shoving Sam’s Coke back up to his mouth to force him to drink.

“Hey! Okay, okay. I’ll shut up. I just think it’s cool, alright?” Sam said before he was forced to down the whole can.

Castiel stopped chewing his food and looked at Sam. “You think it’s cool?” he asked in disbelief.

“Well, yeah. I mean, you’re awesome,” Sam said to Castiel, making him blush. “You’re like family already so it really wouldn’t change a thing if you’re together with my brother. How did this start anyway?” Sam asked.

“Uhh…” Dean said, searching for the right words but coming up short.

“At the Spring Festival,” Castiel was quick to supply.

“Ohh,” Sam said before he averted his gaze and took another bite.

“Wait a sec,” Dean said in suspicion. “I know that tone. You’re hiding something!” Dean accused.

Sam looked up at him innocently. “I’m not hiding anything.”

“You!” Dean gasped as he caught on. “You set me up!”

Castiel, on the other hand, was still clueless about the exchange that just went on between the brothers. “What are you guys talking about?”

“He set me up! Well, he set us up! Come here,” Dean said as he reached across the table to grab Sam in a chokehold.

“Ow, ow, ow. Let go, Dean!” Sam protested, struggling to get out of Dean’s grasp. It was no use. Dean still had a couple of inches, and quite a few pounds, over him and Sam soon gave up. “Alright, alright. I didn’t have to sleep over at Ash’s place,” he spilled, and Dean let go of him instantly. He was rubbing his neck as he continued. “When you told me Cas was gonna work at the dance instead of me… I figured you might put the opportunity to better use and you two would, I don’t know, at least get along better,” Sam explained. “But it totally worked, huh?” Sam said with a wide grin.

“Yeah, yeah. Just shut up and eat your burger,” Dean said dismissively.

“But wait,” Sam said, pausing just when he was about to bite down on his burger. He turned to Castiel, who was quietly observing the two brothers argue. “Since you two are, like, together now… does this mean you’re not leaving for Canada anymore?” Sam asked expectantly.

Castiel had trouble swallowing his food after that. He reached for his Coke and sipped, stealing quick glances at Sam and Dean’s faces. Sam looked eager to know the answer. Dean just fixed his gaze on something in the far corner of the room.

“Uh, no, Sam,” Castiel answered after what seemed like an eternity.

Sam face fell. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I already gave my word to my great aunt. She’s already paid for my plane ticket. Booked the day after graduation. I can’t not go,” Castiel tried to explain, feeling his voice go smaller as each word came out of his mouth.

“Oh,” Sam said, in disappointment, in understanding. “But you’ll come visit, right? During holidays, vacation…” he said expectantly.

“Of course, Sam,” Castiel said, and he felt his heart break a little at Sam’s words. He stole a glance at Dean’s direction again to try and gauge his reaction. Dean just continued to stare at that far-off corner of the room, but Castiel saw his jaw clench, noticed the more pronounced dimples on his cheeks that only appeared whenever he was pressing his lips together tightly when he was uncomfortable or pissed. There were some hurdles, it seemed, that were just too great to simply leap over in a single day. Castiel only hoped there were enough days left before graduation to set things completely right with Dean. Because even though he was going away, he still meant what he said. He’d very much like to keep Dean, too.

    

                +++

    

The next days and weeks were spent in something akin to a blissful cocoon for Castiel and Dean. A lot of things changed since that day. Now, whenever Castiel came over to watch movies with Sam, Dean didn’t just hover. He sat together with them, offered unwarranted opinions about the actors and the plot, threw popcorn at both their heads when there was a particularly dull portion of the movie. Sometimes, he sat so close to Castiel he was almost hugging him, cuddling Castiel on the sofa. And Sam just smiled, shrugged it off, and enjoyed the movie just the same.

Castiel, too, showed up more often at Bobby’s salvage yard whenever Dean was around. He helped Dean carry car parts from time to time, or handed tools to Dean whenever he was working under a car. And after a few hours of work, they perched on the dented hood of one of the cars and ate through Bobby’s snack supply.

Things changed at school, too. Dean now greeted Castiel whenever they crossed each other’s paths, and Castiel did the same. They spent more time together in class as well, sitting next to each other whenever convenient. Dean discovered how top notch Castiel’s notes were and how he seemed to know everything written in their books. And Castiel realized how smart Dean was, even without trying, because Dean got high grades on tests just by listening to their teacher’s lectures—and occasionally skimming through Castiel’s brilliant notes.

 Dean still hung out with his friends during lunch because he knew Castiel loved spending that time alone reading a book. But now, Dean shrugged off the women that came to him, and a few times, he sought Castiel out in one of his hiding places for a quick break (which involved a heavy amount of kissing and groping).

One thing that didn’t change, however, was Dean’s refusal to talk about things—sensitive things, things involving _feelings_ —with Castiel.

Every time Castiel tried to bring it up, Dean shot him down or changed the subject. “Canada” was now a taboo word, and so was “flight” under any context. It frustrated Castiel how Dean could simply ignore the big fat elephant that seemed to follow them wherever they went. Sometimes, it looked like he was in denial, and sometimes it just looked like he gave up on trying altogether. And sometimes, infuriatingly, he would even use sex to get Castiel to abandon the subject of Canada. He silenced Castiel with a kiss a couple of times, and one particular time when Castiel was very persistent, he had pushed him back onto the sofa and sucked him off until he could no longer think straight.

But this time, Castiel was determined.

Time was running out for them, and Castiel had to talk this through with Dean at length. What Dean wanted from him, what he expected, what he needed. Would he want to continue this thing they have between them even if Castiel would be gone for most of the year? Or would he treat this as a last fling before they graduate and never think of Castiel again, maybe simply forget this ever happened and go back to treating Castiel the way he used to? Would he even miss Castiel the way that Castiel would miss him?

There were a thousand and one questions in Castiel’s mind, and he wanted clear answers from Dean before he left. So that afternoon in Bobby’s living room, as they were studying for their history finals together, Castiel brought it up again.

“We have to talk, Dean,” he began.

Dean didn’t even look up from his history book when he spoke. “I really don’t want to get into this right now. I still have 8 chapters I haven’t–“

“Dean, please,” Castiel said, reaching a hand out to stop Dean from flipping to the next page.

He finally looked up at Castiel, saw the determination etched on his face, and sighed. “Fine,” he said, jaw clenching as he closed his book. “What do you want to talk about?” he asked, although it was obvious he knew exactly what it was.

“I’m leaving in less than 3 weeks, Dean…” Castiel said.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean said dismissively. “What about you leaving do you want to talk about?”

Castiel gulped. “I want to… I, uh…” he said, losing the words just as he had the opportunity to speak them. It was frustrating. He had a speech all planned out for weeks now and it all disappeared the moment Dean’s gaze fixed on him. Like he was angry and sad at the same time, like Castiel was betraying him, leaving him for another guy named Canada. “…I want to know what you think,” he said weakly.

Dean cleared his throat. “You already know what I think.”

“No, I don’t!”

“I already told you. I don’t want you to go anywhere!” Dean’s outburst, when it came, still surprised Castiel even though he was expecting it, waiting for it to happen for weeks. Then Dean smiled bitterly. “But there’s nothing I can do, is there? You’re still gonna go no matter what I say.”

“Dean…”

“What?!” Dean snapped. “Is there even any use for all this talking? It won’t change anything…”

“I just want you to understand… and I want to…” Castiel took a deep breath. “… I want to know if you’d still… I mean, if you’d still want to be with me even if I’m not here…”

Dean scoffed. “That’s gonna be pretty hard, considering you’re _not_ gonna be _here_.”

“Oh…” Castiel said in understanding, feeling the familiar pain in his chest. “…so I guess ‘this’ is over when I leave…” Castiel whispered to himself.

Dean didn’t have a reply to that, which only confirmed what Castiel had already thought. The minute he left, Dean would forget about him. Dean would go to college, maybe get a nice girlfriend, and all ‘this’ would be is a distant memory.

Then Dean sighed. “We’ve been studying for a few hours already. I think I need a break,” Dean said, taking his books and shoving them back in his bag. He stood up from the sofa, looked at Castiel hunched over his book with a pained look on his face, and Dean felt his chest go tight. “Look, Cas. You know I’m not the most reasonable person in the world. Let’s just, let’s talk again when I’m not in this stinkin’ mood, okay?” he said, running a hand through his hair and offering up a small smile.

Castiel looked up and tried to smile back. He failed miserably. “I understand,” Castiel replied.

“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow in class.”

Castiel nodded and watched as Dean strode out the door. They never got around to talking about it again.

    

                +++

    

The graduation ceremony was uneventful for Castiel, except for the fact that Uncle Bobby was in a suit, his hair slicked back and his beard suspiciously trimmed to look a little more presentable. When Castiel’s name was called, he glanced briefly at Dean, who offered a wide grin and two thumbs up. He got his diploma, paused to take pictures and got off the stage without a hitch. Then it was Dean’s turn, and he watched Dean confidently stride up to the principal to get his diploma. Castiel spied John and Sam beside his uncle, and never had he seen John Winchester as happy as he did then. Sam, of course, was a ball of energy, fidgeting in his seat in excitement as his brother posed for pictures up on the stage. Then it was all over, and Castiel was in their backyard having a small barbecue with the Winchesters.

Everyone was in high spirits, and for the first time in a few weeks, Castiel saw Dean laughing wholeheartedly at one of Sam’s jokes. The afternoon was going so well, Castiel almost forgot that he was leaving the next day. Until John decided to bring it up and ask him what time his flight leaves in the morning.

“9:30,” Castiel replied. His voice failed him and he wasn’t able to add anything else.

“We’re coming with Bobby to the airport to see Cas off,” Sam informed his dad. He wasn’t enthusiastic about Castiel’s departure, but he at least understood him. Dean, however, wasn’t as accepting. He became a bit quieter after that.

“I’ve got something for you,” Sam suddenly said to Castiel. He pulled out a flat, square box neatly covered in blue wrapping paper.

“A gift?” Castiel asked. “You didn’t have to—“

“It’s a graduation present,” Sam said excitedly, “…and well, a going-away present too,” he added with a little less enthusiasm. “Go on, open it!”

Castiel tore the paper away to reveal a brand new Deluxe Turntable Scrabble. “Sam…” he breathed in surprise. “This is ridiculously expensive!”

Sam laughed. “It’s a bit above my really small allowance,” Sam said, “…but Dad pitched in a bit. Besides, it’s Scrabble! You don’t have your own anyway. And it looks amazing, just look at it!” Sam said, pushing the box in Castiel’s hand closer to his face. “This way you could practice when you’re in Canada so I don’t beat you too hard when we meet again,” Sam said with a wide grin.

“Thanks,” Castiel said, genuinely touched by the gesture. “I’ll try not to win with a very high score the next time we play.”

“Ha! You wish!” Sam remarked.

Dean just looked at them quietly and mumbled something that might have sounded like “nerds” under his breath. He didn’t say anything else to Castiel after that.

    

                +++

    

That night, Castiel caught Bobby having a drink in the kitchen. He seemed very solemn and subdued, and Castiel had to corner him to talk. They stayed there for a couple of hours, and just before Castiel returned to his room to continue some of his last minute packing, Bobby reached out to him and gave him a very tight hug. And Castiel remembered the first time his uncle hugged him this hard, the day his parents died. Bobby drove for nine hours and the first thing he did when he got out of the car was to embrace Castiel and tell him, “Everything’s gon’ be alright… you’re not alone, y’ hear me? I’m gonna be right here with you.” Castiel didn’t believe him then, but he did now. He hugged his uncle back harder than he ever hugged anyone.

When Castiel finally went up to his room, it was almost midnight. He glanced at the curtains covering his window and thought about what Dean was doing at that moment. He had just seen him that afternoon and already he missed him. He didn’t want to think about what it would be like not to see him for most of the year. After their last ‘talk’, Castiel had resigned himself to the fact that whatever ‘this’ was between them would end the moment he stepped on the plane. And he understood that. He had come to accept that.

But somehow accepting it didn’t make it hurt less. And now, just the thought of not being able to see Dean for months at a time made his heart ache. He was used to seeing him almost every day. Dean’s presence always radiated a warm energy Castiel could sense even from afar. And for a long while, watching Dean from a distance was enough for him.

He had lived most of his time in Lawrence thinking there would never be anything between him and Dean. He was lucky to be proved wrong. And even though it was brief, he couldn’t have been happier. It would remain one of the happiest times in his life.

Except, now that he knew what it was like to be with Dean, to have Dean’s smiles, his laughter directed toward him, to have Dean’s warm, green eyes look at him with affection, and often times, with a hunger that made Castiel’s knees grow weak… well, it made leaving that much harder for him.

Now, looking at his closed curtains, Castiel’s longing for Dean suddenly became too hard to bear, and he strode purposefully to his window to open the curtains. Maybe the view of Dean’s window from the other side would give him some comfort. It was a view he had enjoyed looking at ever since that day when he accidentally destroyed the boards covering it. He had occasionally heard Dean playing his guitar after that, but he never heard Dean singing again, _which was a shame_ , Castiel thought.

It was only when he was near the window did he hear the familiar sound of Dean’s guitar strumming a few notes on the other side.

He had never blatantly watched Dean from his room, afraid that it would spook the other guy, but now, he didn’t seem to care anymore as he yanked his curtains open.

It was Castiel, not Dean, who was more surprised with what he saw.

Dean was sitting on his table directly in front of the window and playing his guitar. He looked up at Castiel briefly when he opened the curtains, then went right back to strumming his guitar.

Castiel was stunned. “Wha—uh… did I miss something?” he asked, leaning out of his window just to bridge the gap a little.

“No,” Dean answered. He looked back up at Castiel and grinned. “You’re just in time.”

“Just in time for what?”

“Oh wait…” Dean said, leaning out of view to grab at something, and the next thing Castiel knew, Dean was throwing him a black umbrella.

Castiel barely caught the umbrella and turned it over and over to see what was special about it. “What’s this supposed to be?”

“Open it, put it over your head,” Dean instructed, and Castiel, curiosity piqued, opened the umbrella out of the window.

“I feel ridiculous. It’s not even raining,” Castiel pointed out, but still, he held the umbrella over his head as he leaned out the window.

Dean’s smile just widened. “Just go with me here…” he said before he went back to strumming his guitar.

For a couple of minutes, Castiel just listened to Dean playing a song he didn’t know, until the notes bled in to something quite familiar. Castiel’s jaw dropped the moment Dean mouth opened to sing.

“Doo-dloo-doo-doo-doo doo-dloo-doo-doo-doo-doo…” Dean began, the sound of his voice like honey to Castiel’s ears, and soon Castiel’s eyes were watering with unshed tears. Dean saw him tearing up and abruptly stopped. “Shit, you’re gonna cry. I’m butchering the song, aren’t I? Is it that bad?” Dean asked all of a sudden.

“No!” Castiel gasped. “No… it’s… it’s perfect. Please, don’t stop…” he begged, wiping the tears from his eyes. A smile formed on Castiel’s face when Dean continued playing his guitar, then after a few strums, resumed his singing as well. Dean’s eyes never left Castiel as he sang, and Castiel tried hard not to blink, lest he miss even a split-second of it.

_I'm singing in the rain_  
_Just singing in the rain_  
_What a glorious feelin'_  
_I'm happy again_  
_I'm laughing at clouds_  
_So dark up above_  
_The sun's in my heart_  
_And I'm ready for love_  
_Let the stormy clouds chase_  
_Everyone from the place_  
_Come on with the rain_  
_I've a smile on my face_  
_I walk down the lane_  
_With a happy refrain_  
_Just singin’_  
_Singin' in the rain_

When Dean finished the last chords on his guitar, he gently laid it down on the table beside him and leaned out the window. “So… d’ya still like that Gene Kelly guy or did I just bump him off of your list for good?” Dean asked cockily.

Castiel laughed. “Oh, I think you knocked him down a couple of places.”

Dean chuckled at that. “I’ll take what I can get. Oh, and can I have that back now,” he said, pointing to the umbrella. Castiel closed the umbrella and promptly handed it to him, although the gap was still pretty large between their houses, he managed to stretch his arm enough for Dean to grab the tip of it. “Thanks. I nicked this out of Ellen’s car the other day. I should probably sneak it back in there before she notices,” Dean remarked.

“That was the coolest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” Castiel said.

“What? Steal an umbrella?” Dean asked as he threw the umbrella somewhere in the vicinity of his bed.

“No. This,” Castiel gestured. “The private concert. I enjoyed it very much.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean said, grinning from ear to ear. “I knew you’d like it. You, uh, seemed to like my singing that one time so I thought, why not?”

“It was a great parting gift, thanks,” Castiel said, and immediately  regretted it because Dean’s smile dissolved into a frown when the subject of Castiel’s departure was brought up again. “I’m sorry,” Castiel apologized immediately. “I ruined it, didn’t I?” he asked.

“No, no,” Dean shook his head. “It was, uh, kinda like a parting gift anyway. I do _not_ sing for other people, in case you haven’t noticed,” he said, and the lightness in his tone calmed Castiel’s nerves somewhat. “So our agreement still stands, huh? About you not telling anybody about me singing…”

Castiel took a few seconds to process what Dean said before he was nodding in agreement. “Yeah, of course, of course.”

“Great!” Dean smiled again. “And that’s not all,” he said before ducking out of view and leaving Castiel staring into an empty room for a few seconds. When Dean came back, he threw something at Castiel again, and Castiel yelped in surprise and barely caught the item again.

“You gotta warn me when you’re planning to throw stuff at me! I’m not the best catcher in the world,” Castiel remarked as he looked at the soft package covered in brown paper Dean just threw at him.

“Yeah, yeah… just open it.”

Castiel glanced at the expectant look on Dean’s face before he turned his attention back to the package. He tore through the brown paper and saw it was a piece of clothing, folded neatly and tied with twine. He undid the ribbon and spread out the garment in front of him.

 It was a tan trench coat a couple of sizes too big for him.

Castiel held the trench coat out in front of him and peered above it to look at Dean. “You’re giving me a coat?” Castiel asked in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Dean said with a shrug. “Sammy thought you might need some more winter jackets or some shit because apparently it’s a lot colder in Canada. But I figured you could use a thinner coat like this anytime, whether you’re in Canada… or you know… visiting us during vacation,” Dean explained.

Castiel looked back at the trench coat and suddenly it seemed more precious to him. Dean intended for him to use this when he comes for a visit. Dean expected him to visit… he expected him to come back. It was enough to make Castiel teary-eyed again.

“I wrote something on the wrapper, did you see it?” Dean asked suddenly, yanking Castiel out of his thoughts.

“Note? There was a note?” Castiel asked, scrambling to grab all the torn pieces from the floor. “You couldn’t have told me before I ripped it apart?” he asked.

“I sorta forgot,” Dean said. “If it helps, I wrote it somewhere near the corner…”

“Found it!” Castiel announced happily, plucking the piece of torn paper with Dean’s handwriting on it.

“ **This** isn’t over,” it just said.

Castiel looked up at Dean, who only smiled back at him, this time a warm, genuine smile that tugged at Castiel’s heart. He looked back at the note and read it again. “This isn’t over…?” Castiel whispered.

Dean must have heard him because he leaned out of the window further and spoke. “Well, yeah… what you said back then kinda stuck to me… you know, the last time we talked about this, finals week…” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck as he suddenly felt the beginnings of embarrassment.

And Castiel suddenly remembered. He remembered that afternoon when they were studying for their finals. The last time they talked about him leaving, and Castiel had come to the conclusion that Dean would forget about him the moment he left. “ _…so I guess ‘this’ is over when I leave…”_ he remembered saying to Dean. “This isn’t over…” Castiel read again as tears started running down his cheeks.

“I’m serious, okay?” Dean said. “Look at me, Cas…”

Castiel looked up and saw the look of affection lined with steely resolve on Dean’s face. It made him want to reach out and kiss Dean even through the gap between them.

“… This isn’t over, you got that? I’ll wait, god, it’ll be hell, but I’ll wait. Okay? I’ll be right here when you come back…”

Castiel nodded. Then, swiftly he turned around, placed the trench coat and the note on his bed and walked out of his room.

“Wait? Cas? Cas?!” Dean called out, but Castiel was long gone. “What the hell?” He just looked dumbfounded at Castiel’s empty room for a few more seconds before he heard Castiel call his name.

“Dean!”

Dean looked down and saw Castiel standing below his window, gesturing for him to come down.

“Dean, get down here!” Castiel called out. Dean didn’t need to be told twice.

After tripping a couple of times on the staircase and nearly falling flat on his face in his haste, Dean managed to get out and around to the side of the house in one piece. The moment he got there, Castiel grabbed him by the shoulder, pushed him to the wall, and kissed him.

Castiel was kissing him with so much hunger that he was practically thrumming with energy. What he lacked in experience, he made up for with enthusiasm. And lots of groping. His hands were combing through Dean’s hair, cradling his jaw, then moving to his sides, his back, moving lower to grab at Dean’s butt before they roamed up and around to his stomach, his chest, and god, his nipples.

And Dean loved it.

He kissed Castiel back almost immediately, hands roaming the expanse of Castiel’s back as he wrestled Castiel’s tongue with his own. He grabbed at Castiel’s butt, nudged a knee between his legs and pulled Castiel towards him.

Castiel moaned into the kiss when Dean’s thigh rubbed his fast-growing erection. He thrust against Dean’s leg instinctively, a shudder running through his body at the sensation.

That made the corners of Dean’s mouth twitch into a smile even as his tongue traced the roof of Castiel’s mouth. Granted, it was a little past midnight and it was dark where they stood, but still Dean felt a thrill go through him with the thought that they could easily be seen. It made him feel hot as he ground his hips against Castiel’s, pushed his thigh harder against the hard line of Castiel’s cock in his jeans.

Then Castiel bit down on Dean’s lower lip, harder than Dean was used to, and his cock twitched inside his jeans because _, fuck_ , that was hot. And when Castiel started licking Dean’s abused lip, Dean effectively lost it.

He grabbed at Castiel’s belt and undid it at the first try, moving his hands quickly to work at his fly. Castiel got the idea and fumbled with Dean’s belt as Dean reached into his boxers and grabbed his cock.

Castiel gasped, hands frozen at Dean’s belt as Dean spread the precome over the head and used it to slick his fingers as he started stroking up and down the hard length of Castiel’s cock.

“Help me out here, huh?” Dean said breathlessly as his other hand yanked at his belt where Castiel’s hands were still unmoving.

With a jolt, Castiel’s hands returned to their job, undoing Dean’s belt quickly and working his fly open. He heard Dean hiss as his hands came into contact with his cock. He paused to thumb at the slit and Dean shuddered, hand on Castiel’s cock losing its pace for a moment before it resumed with more urgency, long strokes that produced such a delicious friction that Castiel had to cling to Dean for support as his knees threatened to fold underneath him.

Castiel started pumping in time with Dean’s strokes, burying his nose on Dean’s shoulder. He inhaled Dean’s scent, tongue darting out of its own accord to lick a stripe up Dean’s neck. Dean bucked violently into Castiel’s hand, a sharp cry of “Fuck Cas!” ringing in his ear.

He bit back his own moan when Dean’s other hand joined in, taking both their cocks in one tight grasp. He felt the throbbing heat of Dean’s cock slide against his, felt Dean’s warm precome trickle down his own cock where the pad of Dean’s thumb smeared the liquid over the head. Castiel’s hands moved to engulf them both, one hand stroking just below Dean’s, the other squeezing over Dean’s hand.

He was trembling now, Dean’s heavy panting on his ear making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Then he felt Dean’s mouth sucking on his earlobe, teeth digging into his skin. He heard Dean moan a string of colorful curses before Dean seized, hand clamping over them harder as he came, his come pulsing out of him, coating both their hands and slicking the path of their fingers down their cocks.

Soon, Castiel’s vision fizzled and sparked white as his own release rocked violently through him. He jerked and pushed Dean harder against the wall as he came, face buried on the side of Dean’s neck as bursts of his come mixed with Dean’s and painted a wet mess over their clothes.

For a moment they didn’t move, their heavy breaths suddenly too loud in the quiet of the night. Then Castiel felt the vibrations of Dean’s chest as he began to laugh. “Shit… d’ya think anybody heard us?” he asked, no real worry in his voice, just amusement, and Castiel had to chuckle along with him.

“A little too late to be thinking about that…” Castiel mumbled as he looked up at Dean’s face. The grin on Dean’s face was bright even in the darkness of the night.

“Fuck, I’m gonna miss doing this…” Dean remarked, his grin trembling a little. “Hey, you better friggin’ come back every chance you get or I’m takin’ the first flight out to Canada to haul your ass back here.”

Castiel nodded, feeling as if a burden had been lifted off his shoulders at the reminder that Dean would be waiting for him to return. He smiled, a genuinely happy smile, as he looked at Dean’s face and tried to burn the image of it in the back of his eyelids before he leaned in to kiss him again. It was a few more minutes before they reluctantly pried themselves from each other’s embrace and retired for the night, but somehow, the smile stayed on Castiel’s face until he fell asleep.

The same smile even bled into his expression the moment he found himself standing at the airport in his too large trench coat, about to part ways with Bobby, Sam, and Dean.

He hugged his uncle one more time, and when he turned to hug Sam, he was preempted by Sam launching toward him in a bear hug that knocked the breath out of his lungs.

“Be sure you’re here for Thanksgiving and Christmas, okay?” Sam reminded him just as they parted.

Castiel chuckled. “I’ll try not to forget.” Then he turned to Dean and he was relieved to see him smiling back at him.

Dean took a step forward, adjusting the lapels of his trench coat. “The next time we see each other, you better have grown into this already, you got me?”

“I doubt I’ll gain that many pounds in a few months, but I’ll try. Thanks,” Castiel told Dean.

Then Dean suddenly yanked him by the lapels of his coat… and planted an open-mouthed kiss on his lips.

Needless to say, Castiel was stunned, his eyes growing to epic proportions as Dean kissed him in an airport lobby full of people, with Bobby and Sam right there next to them. Dean even had the guts to slip him some tongue before he pulled away and ever-so-casually readjusted his lapels, giving him a pat on the chest and a smug “there we go” to cap it all off.

Castiel spared a still-shocked glance at his uncle and Sam to see their reactions to the blatant display of affection. Sam just suddenly found his sneakers really interesting, and Bobby, well, Bobby just looked at the two of them with his usual sour expression, as if he wasn’t surprised at all with the recent development. “Are you done?” he asked, as if he knew all along about the two of them, which in hindsight, might not have been that much of a stretch.

Dean smirked and nodded. “Yeah, we’re done.”

“Idjits,” Bobby muttered under his breath. “Okay, son, off you go,” he said, placing a hand on Castiel’s shoulder to gently steer him in the direction of his boarding gate.

Castiel smiled that same genuine smile he had had on his face since the previous night, and took a brief moment to memorize exactly the way Bobby, Sam, and Dean’s faces looked. He lingered a bit longer on Dean’s face, on those green eyes he loved so much, and tried to etch in his mind all the shades of green and blue and brown and gold he saw.

As he stepped on the plane, he still had the image of the three of them in his mind, and he smiled. Because even though he was leaving, he knew that no matter how long he was gone, he would always have a family in Lawrence to come home to.

Now all that was left for him to do was to plan out his return.

Castiel smiled wider.

He was always good at planning.

    

                +++

    

**Part 3: Summer: Freshman Year in College**

Dean and Castiel were trying to make the long distance thing work. They talked on the phone almost every other day. They didn’t talk about how much they missed each other, how much Dean wanted to go to this party with Castiel, or how much Castiel wanted Dean to taste the pies from the bakery down the street. Instead, they talked about their days: what their teachers and classmates were like, what was new at work for Dean, and what new place Castiel discovered in Vancouver. If they both imagined it hard enough, they could almost pretend they weren’t miles and miles apart.

Usually it wasn’t so bad. Castiel could go on with his day without thinking too much about Dean and Sam and everybody back in Lawrence. He went to classes the whole day, spent break times with his classmates Anna and Balthazar, and went to his part-time job at the library for a couple of hours before heading home. It was business as usual.

However the moment that his phone rang at night, things changed. The first words from Dean’s mouth were like drops of rain after a long drought. Cas found himself suddenly missing Dean and everybody in Lawrence; it was almost unbearable. He thought he was doing fine before that, but once he heard Dean’s voice his yearning would hit him like a ton of bricks, and he’d wonder why he ever left in the first place.

But he never said anything to Dean. And in turn, Dean never said anything about missing him either. Saying it out loud would only force them into admitting things weren’t going as smoothly as they had hoped.

So they went on like this for a couple of months, trading stories about school and work and talking about things as mundane as the weather. For an hour or so every other day, they could pretend that they were in the same room together, learning about each other’s adventures and misadventures. They could pretend that they were fine, that they weren’t missing each other. It wasn’t ideal, but it worked.

Eventually, though, things started to fall apart.

    

                +++

    

“Lisa invited me to go to her house this weekend. Turns out she loves to bake and she said she’d bake those mini pies for me,” Dean said.

“She’s going to bake for you? That sounds great,” Castiel said, trying to sound as excited as Dean was about the prospect of free pie.

“Yeah. And after that, we’re heading to Andy’s place for a party,” Dean said enthusiastically.

“A party? That’s the second one this week, Dean,” Cas pointed out. “I thought you had a paper due?”

“Well, I did, but Professor Alistair had to go to speak at some seminar out of town so our paper’s deadline was moved to the 15th instead,” Dean explained. “Which means I’m free for the rest of the week. But, of course, Lisa’s almost done with her paper. She’s a bit of an overachiever, like you.”

“Oh?” Castiel said, again trying to sound happier and more interested than he was. But in reality, he didn’t like it when Dean talked about Lisa, and he talked about her a lot. Castiel felt jealous and a little bit angry at Lisa, someone whom he had never even met.  He couldn’t think of any reason why he’d feel that way, other than the fact that Lisa was just there, with Dean, while Castiel was miles away.

It didn’t sit well with Castiel whenever he thought of how Lisa was experiencing things with Dean—the first day of college, the sadistic English professor, the crazy parties. Plus, based on Dean’s stories, Castiel had an inkling Lisa liked Dean as more than just a friend, and that only made Castiel more uneasy.

So, out of morbid curiosity, Castiel ended up asking Dean something he’d been thinking about for a long time. “What does Lisa look like? I don’t think you’ve told me yet.”

“I didn’t?” Dean asked. “Honestly? She’s hot. She’s got long brown hair and gorgeous eyes and she loves doing yoga too so she’s _really_ fit.”

“Oh,” Castiel said, and he mentally cursed himself for sounding disappointed that Lisa was actually attractive. He hoped Dean didn’t notice, but he wasn’t so lucky.

“Hey now, wait. Lisa and I… we’re not, okay? There’s no ‘we’ between us. She’s just a friend,” Dean tried to explain, stumbling through his words. “You know that, right Cas? I would never—“

Castiel smiled at Dean’s fumbling reassurance. “I know.”

    

                +++

    

After that, Dean noticeably kept Lisa out of his stories, and Castiel didn’t know whether he should be happy about that or not. He tried not to think about it too much, especially when Sam brought a more pressing problem to his attention.

“Dean’s been renting porn again. I saw it in his room. Like 5 new tapes,” Sam revealed to Castiel one time.

“Porn?” Castiel asked in confusion. “What kind of porn?”

Sam balked. “What kind? Ew, I don’t look through my brother’s porn stash, Cas!”

“But you just said—“

“He didn’t exactly keep it hidden. They were lying on his desk inside his room, along with the latest copy of Busty Asian Beauties,” Sam said. “I think he has a problem,” he concluded.

Castiel frowned. “You mean he’s sexually frustrated?”

“I guess. I mean, ever since you left he hasn’t really been… you know what? Can we just talk about something else?” Sam asked. “I’m kinda uncomfortable talking about my brother’s lack of sexual activity with his boyfriend.”

“Well you were the one who brought up his porn stash.”

“Call it a lapse in judgment,” Sam said. “No, but seriously. The sex thing aside, I think Dean’s really missing you. He would never say it, but believe me, he misses you.”

Cas let out a deep sigh. “I know. I miss him too, Sam.”

“Maybe you should do something about that,” Sam told him.

“Maybe I will.”

    

                +++

    

“I’m going to kick that kid’s butt!” Dean growled. “He was looking through my stuff?”

“He claimed the tapes were on your desk, in plain sight,” Cas said. “But that’s not the point, Dean.”

“Oh? What is?”

“You are sexually frustrated,” Cas said bluntly.

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean said. “That’s what this call is about? You think I’m sexually frustrated?” he asked.

“Yes. That is accurate though, isn’t it?” Castiel asked.

Dean paused, trying to figure out the best way to say it. “Uh, yeah. Sure I suppose I’m kind of frustrated. Well, not kind of. I’m really frustrated. Been jerking off almost every night for the past couple of weeks. But what am I going to do, eh? I can’t exactly go out and pick up chicks at a bar.”

Castiel felt guilty about Dean’s predicament. It was no secret Dean’s sexual appetite was stronger than others, Cas included, and though Castiel appreciated Dean’s attempt at staying faithful to him, he also knew it was near impossible. They could only see each other maybe once a year, twice if they were lucky. He couldn’t make Dean sit around and wait for him. Soon, Dean would get tired of waiting, and he’d find somebody else. Castiel swallowed the lump in his throat before he spoke the next words: “You could, you know, pick up girls if you wanted to. I—I won’t mind,” he declared, even as the thought of Dean in somebody else’s arms made him feel sick inside.

“I could—what are you saying Cas? You’re giving me permission? To _cheat_?” Dean asked in confusion, and then in outrage. “You know I would never cheat on you.”

“It won’t be—It won’t be cheating if I consent—“

“I can’t believe this!” Dean said in frustration. “You want me to have sex with somebody else, that’s what you’re saying?”

Castiel couldn’t even form the words to reply. No. He did not want Dean to be with anyone else besides him. But if a few one night stands with other people was all it took to ensure Dean wouldn’t get tired of waiting for him, then he had to suck it up and accept it. “I just want you to be happy,” Castiel answered meekly.

“Lemme get this straight, you’re saying we’re going to have an open relationship now? Is that it? Does that mean _you_ want to find somebody else to fuck while we’re apart?”

“No!” Castiel said in alarm. “I would never! I could never…” Castiel answered.

“And you think I could? You think that I wanna have sex so much that anyone would do? Is that what you think of me?”

Castiel felt the color in his face drain at Dean’s accusations. “I—I didn’t mean it that way. I only want you to be happy… I can’t make you happy like this.”

Dean let out an exasperated sigh. “Look, maybe my track record in relationships isn’t really the best, but I’m trying here. I just wish you had a little more faith in me.”

“Dean…” Castiel said quietly.

Another sigh. “I gotta go. My shift at the salvage yard starts in fifteen minutes,” Dean said.

“Okay,” Castiel answered before Dean hung up.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, holding the phone receiver in his hand as he stared blankly at the carpet. He didn’t want Dean to have a hard time because of him. He thought Dean might appreciate his offer, but he was wrong. He was very, very wrong.

Dean was angry at him. And when Dean was angry, he tended to run away from talking about it.  Before, Castiel tried to get Dean to talk about what was bothering him every chance he got. But now, he only had this: a telephone. If Dean chose not to talk to him, he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.  He couldn’t go to him and ask him what was wrong, or how they could make it right. All Dean had to do was to stop calling and stop answering his calls and that would be it.

He had never felt as strong an urge to see Dean as he did at that moment.

    

                +++

    

“You two had a fight,” Sam stated the moment he answered Castiel’s call the next day.

“Dean told you about it?” Cas asked.

“No, I can just tell. He’s crankier than usual today,” Sam said.

“Is he there? I’d like to speak to him,” Castiel said.

“He’s doing overtime at the salvage yard today. He’ll be back in a couple of hours,” Sam told him. “So what did you fight about?”

Castiel hesitated. “You might not want to hear about it…”

“Is it the porn? I bet it’s the porn,” Sam said. “He told you he was frustrated, huh?”

“He admitted it, yes,” Castiel said. “But I’m afraid I’ve angered him with my response. I told him to seek, uhm, momentary comfort somewhere else…”

“You told him to date someone else?!” Sam said in surprise.

“Not exactly date. Maybe just occasional one night stands?”

“What the hell, Cas?! Why would you say that?” Sam berated.

Castiel felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment as he tried to explain his side to Sam. “It-it was the only way I could think of to ease his frustrations!” Castiel argued.

“Well no wonder he got angry. He’s trying so hard to make things work and you just basically told him it’s okay not to try. It’s almost like you don’t think he can actually do it.”

“It’s not like that,” Castiel said. “You know your brother. He enjoys physical comfort. I can’t give that to him. I don’t want him to get tired waiting for me,” Castiel confessed.

Sam sighed heavily. “Maybe you should tell him all that,” Sam suggested. “He’ll call later, I promise. I’ll make him call the moment he arrives so you two can talk this thing out.”

“You don’t have to—“

“I will anyway,” Sam said stubbornly. “And Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Give Dean a bit more credit.”

“He said something like that too,” Castiel said. “That I should have more faith in him. But I do. I believe him.”

“Then maybe you should give yourself a bit more credit instead. There’s a reason Dean is trying to make this long distance thing work. He doesn’t want you to get tired of waiting, too,” Sam told him.

Castiel fell silent for a moment. Maybe that was the problem. He thought for a long time that Dean couldn’t love him back. Now, even if they were in a relationship, he still had moments when he could hardly believe Dean chose him. He never realized thinking this way would hurt Dean.

“Cas? You still there?” he heard Sam ask.

“Thank you, Sam,” Castiel replied. “I think I understand now.”

“No problem,” Sam replied, and Cas could almost hear the grin in his voice.

    

                +++

    

 Waiting for Dean to call that night was torture. Castiel finished all his homework after an hour, and spent the next hour looking at the clock over and over again. He thought about calling again, to see if maybe Dean was already home. He even contemplated calling the salvage yard to ask for Dean, but he stopped himself. Sam said Dean would call when he arrived. He trusted Dean would call.

And after almost three hours of waiting, Dean finally called, and Castiel braced himself when he answered.

“Hey,” Dean said, and Castiel was once again overcome with longing at the sound of Dean’s voice.

“Hey,” Cas answered. “Listen—“

“Wait,” Dean interrupted. “Before you say anything, I just want to say I’m sorry.”

“Why are you saying sorry?” Castiel asked in confusion. “I should be the one apologizing,” Castiel said.

“I’ve just been thinking. I got pissed yesterday because you didn’t seem to think I could handle this. I told you to have more faith in me, but maybe it’s my fault you think that way.”

“Dean…” Castiel said.

“It’s hard, okay? Being away from you, not knowing when I can see you again. And yeah, sure, I may be frustrated, Jesus, even Sam’s telling me how screwed up I am that I watch so much porn, but that’s nothing. I can take that. Talking to you on the phone, hearing your voice, that’s enough for me,” Dean said.

Castiel felt his chest grow tight at Dean’s words. “I thought you might get tired of waiting,” Castiel said.

“Why would you—“

“I was wrong to think that way,” Castiel admitted.

“Damn right you were!” Dean said.

“It wasn’t that I didn’t have faith in you to stay. It was because I didn’t think I would be enough for you to stay…” Castiel revealed.

 “Not enough? Cas, listen to me. You may be 2,000 miles away, but I don’t need anybody else. I’d rather have you instead. You understand?”

Castiel’s eyes grew wide at Dean’s declaration. He didn’t know how much ne needed to hear that from Dean until now. “Yes,” Castiel answered, feeling the weight lifted from his shoulders. “I understand. I realize now, you feel the same way I do. I don’t want to be with anyone else but you.”

“That’s—that’s good,” Dean said, choking on the words a bit, like he was overwhelmed with emotion but didn’t want to sound that way.

Castiel realize that may have been the longest talk they’ve had about their feelings in months, and he smiled as he imagined Dean sitting uncomfortably in his own room. “Sorry for the chick-flick moment,” Cas said.

“No, nah, it’s cool. We need chick flick moments from time to time,” he said. “Keeps us sane.”

“I agree.”

“Well,” Dean exhaled. “I’m glad that’s settled. And okay, I know I just said it’s enough for me to hear your voice, but god, I really wish I could see you right now,” Dean said candidly.

Castiel couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’ll just have to make do with hearing my voice for now.”

“If I squint hard enough, I can almost see you in your cloud-printed PJs sitting on your bed.”

Castiel huffed out a laugh. “I do not have pajamas like that! And what makes you think I’m wearing PJs.”

“Oh?” Dean said in amusement. “Alright, what are you wearing?”

“I’m—“

“Holy shit!” Dean gasped.

Castiel frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“Sonnovabitch!” Dean cursed again. “Why didn’t I think of this sooner?”

“Dean?” Castiel asked in confusion.

“Cas, you’re alone in your room, right? ” Dean asked.

“Yes.”

“Great. Okay, lock your door and come back to bed,” Dean said in that suspicious tone he used when he was up to something.

“O-kay...” Cas said tentatively. “I’ll be right back,” he said and walked to the door to lock it. “Alright. It’s locked. What are you planning?”

“What are you wearing?” Dean asked.

“A t-shirt and boxers,” Castiel replied.

“Okay, lie down on your bed.”

“I don’t understand—“

“Just, just go with me on this one. Are you lying down?”

Castiel did as he was told and lay down on his bed with the phone still pressed against his ear. “Yes.”

“Okay, great, imagine I’m there with you. I’m sitting down on the foot of your bed.”

“Oh,” Castiel said, finally realizing what Dean was up to. “Are we gonna try phone sex?”

Dean laughed at Cas’ inability to be discreet. “Yes, Cas, we’re gonna try phone sex,” Dean answered. “Unless you’re not up for it.”

“I’m up for it,” Castiel said eagerly. “So, uh, where do we start? I’m not quite sure how this would work.”

Dean laughed again. “This is so awkward.”

Castiel chuckled as well. “You’re the one who watches all those porn tapes. You take the lead.”

“Oh, you like it when I take the lead, huh?” Dean asked, his voice going low.

Castiel gasped as a shiver ran down his spine at the sound of Dean’s voice. “Oh,” he said. “I see how this works now,” he whispered, shifting on his bed to get more comfortable.

“I know one other thing you like… you like it when run my hand up your leg, when I touch your thigh.”

Castiel closed his eyes, imagining Dean’s hand on his thigh at that moment, the rough pads of his fingers caressing his inner thigh. “Mmm,” he grunted softly as he felt himself start to harden in his boxers.

“And when I touch your cock, when I grip you through your boxers and stroke you like that…”

Another shiver and Castiel’s hand was on the tent in his boxers, gripping himself tight like Dean would do. “Oh,” he gasped loudly. That felt so much better than when he did this by himself.

“Are you touching yourself, Cas?” Dean asked.

“Y-yes,” Castiel answered, his voice barely escaping his mouth.

“Imagine it’s my hand doing that to you, rubbing you—ugh, rubbing you up and down until you’re already, ugh, leaking on your boxers,” Dean said, grunting and breathless like he was running a marathon.

It occurred to Castiel that Dean was also probably jacking off now, and he had the sudden image of Dean sitting here on his bed, stroking Castiel as he jacked himself off. Castiel groaned again, rubbing up and down faster.

“Then, I pull your boxers down, lick my palm before I put my hand on your bare cock.”

“Dean,” Cas said breathily. He pulled his boxers down to his thighs, mimicking Dean’s words and licking his palm thoroughly, his breath hitching as he finally touched himself completely.

“You feel so good in my hand, you know that? And the way you look when I press my thumb against the tip… that red flush on your chest and your cheeks, the way your eyes get hooded, ugh, Cas, you don’t know what that does to me.”

Castiel tried to do it the way Dean did, to press his thumb against the slit of his cock, spread the pre come on the head like that. It was overwhelming, listening to Dean’s voice and imagining Dean doing this to him.

“Tell me what else you want me to do Cas,” Dean said. “You like... you like me to jack you off faster? Or do you want me to stop and move my hand lower?”

Castiel gasped at the suggestion. “Don’t s-stop,” Castiel said. “Your other hand, move it l-lower, Dean,” he answered.

“Where do you want my other hand, Cas? On your balls…”Dean suggested and oh, Castiel could almost feel Dean cupping his balls like he used to.

“Or do you want me lower?”

“Lower,” Castiel answered shamelessly, feeling a sense of pride at making Dean gasp and curse loudly.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean said.  “You want my fingers on your hole? Want me to tease your rim while I jack you off?”

“Yes,” he answered, squirming as he pressed the phone between his ear and his shoulder so he could push his other hand down in between his thighs. He touched his own hole tentatively and he groaned loudly. “I want you,” he said, his voice wrecked. “P-please.”

“Shit,” Dean cursed again. “You, ah, you like it when I rub you there… without lube the friction is too much. But you like it, fuck, Cas, you’re dying for it.”

“Y-ugh,” Castiel tried to say, hoping it sounded like a ‘yes’ because, god, he didn’t want Dean to stop. He was so close, his hand frantically stroking himself as the fingers of his other hand rub over his hole. So, so close.

“You’re fucking begging for it. Want my fingers in your hole, stretch you out and make you come like that,” Dean said.

“Ugh, uh, want, I… want, your fingers, ah, your cock…everything,” Castiel babbled. He slipped a dry finger in his hole up to the first knuckle, the burn of entry making his brain short circuit and soon he was coming, hard and loud and fast.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean was chanting until all Castiel could hear was a loud groan and he knew Dean was coming as well.

He lied there boneless and breathing heavily as he listened to Dean’s own heavy breathing on the line.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean said. “We should’ve done this sooner.”

 “There’ll be… other times,” he answered, his breath still not quite returned to his lungs completely.

“Heck yeah,” Dean said.

Castiel smiled dopily to himself. “Maybe we’ll do things you like next time,” he suggested.

“Oh yeah,” Dean agreed. “Then maybe I won’t have any need for all those porn tapes anymore…”

Castiel chuckled.

Things went way better than he expected that night, and at least for now, his fears of losing Dean have been put on hold. They were finally making the long distance thing work. It might never be the ideal relationship that they both wanted, but it was enough.

For now.

    

                +++

    

“Sammy, you’re gonna be late for soccer camp!” Dean growled. It was officially the start of summer, but the non-stop rain gave the air a definite chill, and Dean bundled himself tighter in his jacket.

“Alright, alright!” Sam replied. “Be right there!”

Dean opened the door and turned back, calling out to Sam. “The team bus leaves in less than half an hour!” he said. Then he turned around to take a step out the door— before he froze on the spot.         

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel greeted with a small smile.

“Holy shit,” Dean gasped, jaw falling open in disbelief. He looked Cas up and down, from the big, black umbrella he was holding, down to the oversized trench coat, down to the slightly mud-caked sneakers.  “You’re here,” he said in shock, making Castiel chuckle.

Behind Dean, Sam came rushing to the door, overstuffed bag in hand. “Oh, hey Castiel,” Sam greeted, stopping for a second to put the hood of his jacket over his head. “How was the flight?” he asked with a wide smile.

“Touched down ten minutes early,” Castiel said.

“Great,” Sam said. He looked back at Dean. “I’m gonna be late. You don’t need to take me to school. I’ll take the bus,” he said before walking out the door.

Dean gaped as Sam walked away. What was going on? “Wait—!” he called out, looking at Castiel, still smiling at him, then back at Sam who was walking quickly to the side of the road. The kid wasn’t even surprised that Cas was here. Then it hit him. He looked at Cas in disbelief. “The fucker knew you were coming,” he accused.

Cas smiled wider. “We may have talked about it at some point.”

Dean huffed in disbelief. “I can’t believe you two! Why would you?! Oh come here!” he said, before stepping out the door and grabbing Castiel into a tight hug.

Castiel hugged Dean back with his free hand, his other hand holding the umbrella over their heads. He pressed his cheek against the side of Dean’s head and let out a sigh. Though he came back to Lawrence for a few days during the winter break, it still felt like he hadn’t seen Dean in years. “It’s great to see you again, Dean.”

Dean pulled away and grabbed Cas by the shoulders. “You too, man,” Dean said with a wide grin. “A black umbrella, eh? Nice touch,” Dean said with a laugh as he moved aside to let Cas in.

Castiel smiled. “Bought it before I left Vancouver,” he said, closing the umbrella before walking in the door.

“So, how long will you be vacationing here for?” he asked, staying beside Cas as he placed the umbrella in a corner and shucked off his coat.

Folding the coat on his arm, Castiel looked at Dean. “Indefinitely,” Cas answered, his eyes glued to every expression Dean’s face made.

First Dean looked at him in confusion, then in shock, then in barely contained glee. “For real?” he asked, like he was very happy but he didn’t want to show it, unless he knew for certain Cas wasn’t kidding.

Castiel nodded. “I’m transferring to Kansas University this fall,” he confirmed.

“But your great aunt? I thought she—“

“We had a really long talk… then she and Uncle Bobby had a really long talk… took her a while, but in the end, she decided to still help pay for my tuition,” Castiel explained. “So yeah, that’s why I’m here.”

“How long have you been planning this behind my back?” Dean asked.

“Oh, months,” Castiel replied with a self satisfied smile.

The grin that overtook Dean’s face was nothing short of dazzling. “You sonnovabitch,” he said before grabbing Castiel by the shoulders again and surprising him with an open mouthed kiss.

Soon Castiel’s hands were raking through Dean’s short hair, and Dean was crowding him against the door.

When they parted, Castiel was breathless, and Dean pressed his forehead into Cas’ shoulder, much like that day in the club room over a year ago.

“That was a warm welcome,” Castiel joked. He waited for Dean’s rejoinder, but he just stayed silent. “Dean?”

“Love you.”

Cas’ eyes grew wide in surprise. “What did you—?”

Dean lifted his head and stepped back, his green eyes fixed solidly on Cas’ face. “I—“ Dean said, stopping like he was struggling to get the words out. “—love you, Cas,” Dean repeated.

Castiel smiled. He knew how rare it was for Dean to put words to what he was feeling. But at that moment, Dean didn’t care about creating a chick-flick moment. And though Castiel knew Dean loved him without him saying it, the fact that he still said it out loud made Castiel’s chest feel tight with all the happiness and love and emotion that was swelling inside him. “I know,” he said, trying not to choke on his words. “I love you too,” he said with slightly more ease than Dean did. 

Dean looked at him, eyes bright with emotion as he leaned in again and kissed him, softer and slower this time but still with as much passion as before.

When they parted, Castiel gave him a wide smile, not his usual half smile, but a grin that was all teeth and gums and little crinkles on his nose.

“I’m home,” Castiel said.

Dean grinned back at him.  “Welcome home, Cas.”         

    

                +++

    

**Part 4: Winter: Ten Years Later**

 

Dean sat down on the edge of his bed with a sigh. He didn’t bother turning the lights on, instead letting the many blinking Christmas lights outside bathe the room in their soft, colorful glow. He needed time to think.

Running a hand through his hair, he looked at himself in the mirror. The years have been kind to him. There were faint lines on his face and traces of dark circles under his eyes, but he was still the handsome devil he had always been. But working overtime for the past few weeks had taken a toll on him, and he rolled his shoulders as he tried to banish the dull ache from his back.

The sound of bells and a group of children singing carols out in the street made Dean smile. Because if anyone were to ask Dean Winchester when ‘this’ all started, he’d probably take you way back to winter break of 7th grade. The first time he saw Castiel.

    

                +++

    

As they were unloading shopping bags full of Christmas Eve essentials from the Impala’s trunk, an unfamiliar minivan pulled up in front of Bobby’s house next door. Curious about the identity of the new arrivals, Dean watched as they got out of the van. It was a couple: a nice looking lady with long, black hair and bright blue eyes, and a stern-looking man with short, auburn hair and a constant frown on his face that seemed oddly familiar.

Then Bobby walked out of his house with a rare smile on his face. He watched as Bobby grabbed the man into a tight hug. “That’s Eric, Bobby’s brother. And that’s probably his wife,” his dad told him. Dean turned to look at his dad just as John strode toward Bobby’s visitors.

“Sam,” he hissed, hand gesturing for Sam to come with, and they both walked to the minivan just as their dad exchanged enthusiastic greetings with the couple.

Eric turned to the two boys and he smiled. “Are these your boys, John?” he asked, extending his hand to them. The brothers dutifully shook his hand. “I’m Eric, Bobby’s younger brother. I went to the same high school as your dad,” he supplied.

His wife came up to shake their hands as well. “I’m Amy,” she said with a wide smile, the kind that was all gums and made her nose scrunch up. Dean thought she was very pretty. “You must be Dean and Sam,” she said, getting the name of each boy correctly. “Bobby mentioned the two of you the last time he came to Illinois,” she told them.

“Dean right here’s about the same age as Castiel,” Bobby told her. “Where _is_ that boy?”

“Oh, still sleeping in the car,” she said, rolling her eyes. “He stayed up late last night watching a Christmas movie marathon. I couldn’t get him to stop,” she told them.

Sam’s eyes lit up when she mentioned the movie marathon. He was watching the same thing last night, although John had successfully pried him away from the TV once “The Nightmare Before Christmas” had ended.

“Wait a minute, let me get him,” she said before she walked to the other side of the van.

Dean had heard Bobby mention the name of his only nephew a couple of times before, and he was starting to get curious as to what this boy looked like. Did he take after Bobby and his brother, with messy red brown hair, stern eyes, and a frown on his face? Or was he like his mom, with brown-black hair, sparkling eyes, and a charming smile?

He found himself craning his neck to peer behind the van, and a moment later Amy emerged with her half-asleep son. All Dean could see was a head of messy dark brown hair protruding from a tightly bundled heavy blue jacket. “Castiel,” she said to her son as she gently pushed him forward. “Say hi to your Uncle Bobby’s neighbors. This is Sam and Dean,” she told him.

When Castiel looked up at them with sleep-lazy big blue eyes, Dean found himself unable to breathe properly. His eyes were an even brighter shade than his mom’s, and Dean found himself staring as the boy groggily said “hello” to him and Sam. 

That was the first time he found another boy attractive, and long after they returned to their house, his mind was still haunted by that pair of mesmerizing blue eyes. He had just started being interested in dating girls in sixth grade, and more than a year later he had already racked up a few girlfriends. But this was certainly the first time he looked at another boy in that way, and before he fell asleep that night, he figured it was a pretty normal reaction. After all, the boy named Castiel looked kind of like a girl anyway, with those long lashes and big round eyes and pink lips and smooth skin. Besides, he would probably never see the other boy again after this, so there really wasn’t much to worry about.

He didn’t think about Castiel again, nor did he find any other boy attractive after that. He had all but forgotten about him until summer just before his sophomore year in high school, when his dad came home upset and told them the news about the car accident that killed Bobby’s younger brother and his wife.

They arrived at Bobby’s place that day just as Bobby was packing up to drive to Pontiac, Illinois. He was distraught and kept repeating “Castiel needs me” as he dumped some of his things into his car. John offered to drive him to Illinois but Bobby refused, insisting he could drive himself there. John then suggested that the boys watch over Bobby’s house instead while he arranged things with Rufus to manage the salvage yard. Bobby was never more grateful for anybody’s help as he was in that moment, and he left with promises of returning just as soon as he settled things in Illinois.

He returned by the end of summer, but he was not alone.

That was the second time Dean saw Castiel.

He was thin and almost frail looking, Dean thought, as he watched the boy alight from Bobby’s car from across the yard. He vaguely remembered what it was like when he lost his mom when Sam was just a baby—a car pileup on a slippery road. It was the lowest point of his young life, but even then, he couldn’t imagine what it must be like to lose both parents at once.

He was jolted out of his thoughts by Sam throwing him a fastball at his face. He caught it just in time to save himself from a broken nose. “Watch it, Sammy!” he snapped.

“Hey, I wasn’t the one who was spacing off there,” Sam answered.

“Why you little—“ he said before he threw the baseball particularly hard at Sam. Sam jumped in surprise and barely caught the ball, and Dean laughed as Sam nearly stumbled to the ground.

Sam looked at him with wide eyes and smirked. “Oh it’s on!”

They threw the ball at each other with increasing strength until the sound of Bobby’s voice calling out to them interrupted their game of extreme catch.

“Dean, Sam! C’mere for a minute and I’ll introduce you to my nephew!”

Sam dropped the ball to the ground and ran across the yard to Bobby’s house. Dean followed him at a more leisurely pace, picking the ball up on his way. He arrived there just as Sam was enthusiastically shaking the other boy’s hand. ‘Castiel’ was his name, as Bobby had reminded them, and Dean smiled. He hadn’t forgotten.

He stepped forward to shake Castiel’s hand and he found himself subjected to the intense stare of a pair of blue eyes just as bright as he remembered seeing all those years ago. He smiled wider. “I’m Dean.”

Castiel awkwardly shook Dean’s hand and continued to stare at him intently, as if there was something entirely fascinating about his nose or his freckles that required his full attention. Dean found that he didn’t quite mind it.

Bobby’s voice asking about John’s whereabouts made Castiel jolt, and he withdrew his hand from Dean’s like he had been burned. He averted his gaze just as quickly, picking up a box of his stuff on the doorstep before retreating inside the house, leaving Dean blinking in surprise and confusion.

“Don’t mind him,” he heard Bobby say. “He’s just tired. We both are,” he said with a sigh.

 “No problem. How long is he visiting for, Bobby?” Sam asked.

“He ain’t visiting. He’s gonna stay with me now,” Bobby told them. “I hoped you boys would get along with him.”

“I’m sure he’ll come around,” Dean said with a smile.

That night before Dean fell asleep, he remembered Castiel and a frown fell on his face. Castiel had changed since the last time he saw him. He was taller, lankier, and his features became more angular, the slope of his jaw more defined and the child-like roundness of his face just barely present. Now he looked unmistakably like the 15-year-old boy that he was. But the long heavy lashes, the big round eyes, the pink lips and the smooth skin still remained the same, and so did Dean’s thoughts about him. He still found Castiel attractive, and that fact made Dean feel a bit queasy.

He saw Castiel again at school in a cozy blue knitted sweater and Dean approached him with every intention of making friends. That plan flew out of the room the moment Castiel looked up at Dean in surprise, wide eyes like those blue marbles with swirling galaxies inside them that Dean used to play with. Dean’s mouth suddenly went dry and he felt weird all of a sudden. So he said the first thing that came to mind, a decision he would regret in a couple of seconds.

He grinned like an idiot and asked for his name again.

Castiel smiled a little as he said his name, which only made Dean feel worse. It looked like he won a bet with himself that Dean wouldn’t remember him.

Dean couldn’t bring himself to approach Castiel again after that. It wasn’t like Castiel was an easy guy to talk to either. He always had his head buried in books, and during lunch he would vanish suspiciously from the lunchroom, but that didn’t stop Dean from seeking out the head of messy brown hair in a crowd. Weeks after that, he spotted Castiel reading a book on the stairwell by the back of the gym, and then again by a small bench on the farthest corner of the outdoor basketball court.

 At times, it even looked as if he was avoiding Dean. They shared several classes together, and not once did Dean catch him alone after class. He was always gone the moment Dean turned around to look his way, and in the hallways, he was always pointedly looking away or avoiding his gaze whenever he crossed paths with Dean. It was like Castiel was uncomfortable with him, and this confused Dean. There was very little interaction between them that there was no reason Dean could think of to warrant this kind of treatment from him. And the longer it went on, the harder it was for Dean to talk to him.

His heart started pounding heavy and fast in his chest whenever Castiel was around, and it bothered Dean more than he cared to admit. He still liked girls, god, he did. They were all soft curves and sweet smiles, and he liked that a lot. But then, he also liked Castiel, liked his stupidly messy hair and his stupidly blue eyes and his stupidly long fingers; found himself wishing to lick Castiel’s mouth and make those stupidly chapped lips soft and damp.

He knew he had it bad the moment he saw Castiel at Bobby’s salvage yard. He spotted him approaching from a distance, and he watched Castiel jolt like he was caught sneaking. Then, as if by some miracle, Castiel approached him and said ‘hi’.

Dean recovered from his initial shock quickly enough to return the greeting with a smile and he watched with something akin to awe as Castiel started talking. It was a commendable attempt at a conversation, but it was awkward as hell and suddenly he was spouting random information about screws or some other shit that Dean couldn’t contain his laughter anymore. Dean thought the face Castiel made then was, for lack of a better word, cute. The way he pouted and scrunched his nose up a bit at Dean’s reaction, and the way his lips slowly turned upward into a smile. Not the toothy grin Dean remembered on Castiel’s mom that one time they met, but an awkward little smile that was all Castiel’s own. It made Dean feel inexplicably warm all over.

And that night, Dean dreamt of Castiel for the first time.

He didn’t know it was Castiel at first. It started off like most of his dreams of this kind. The kind where there was a vast amount of skin involved, and long limbs bent and splayed in every direction, soft and hot lips on his own, and tongue, lots and lots of tongue. There was heavy panting in his ears, his hands clutched at thin hips as the person sank onto him, and then glorious tight heat engulfed him. Then the details started coming in bits. First, fingers splayed over his chest, too long and bony to be a girl’s, then short, dark brown hair brushed against his cheek as the person rode him. Then, parted pink lips just begging to be kissed, and thick dark eyelashes fluttered open to reveal intense blue eyes and before Dean knew it, he was coming hard and fast and violent.

When he woke up after, it was to a dark room and sticky boxers and the image of those eyes. “Fuck,” Dean spat out, covering his eyes with a forearm. Dean knew he was screwed.

    

                +++

    

 

Because of that incident, Dean started dreading the moment he had to talk to Castiel again. He was afraid he’d say something stupid, or worse, his body might start to react. He knew his body, knew how hot and bothered he could get once he started wanting someone. And usually he’d just go ahead and indulge himself, but not this time, because this was _Castiel_. Bobby’s nephew. And Bobby was practically family, which made Castiel practically family as well. And Castiel was a guy. Dean was still honestly too stuck on the ‘guy’ part to do anything about it. But, luckily (or unluckily), Castiel made it a bit easier for him the next time they talked.

Dean thought it was just his imagination at first, when he thought Castiel was trying to avoid looking at him. But when they were placed in the same group for a science project, it became obvious. When Dean made a joke, Castiel didn’t laugh. Didn’t even look up from listing the items they needed. And when he spoke, it was brief and direct to the point. For some reason or another, he was giving Dean the cold-shoulder treatment. And it didn’t happen just once. In fact, every time they had to interact in class, Castiel looked pissed at Dean, and he refused to look at him and Dean guessed it could only be one thing.

Castiel hated him.

Well, maybe not ‘hate’ exactly. Irritated was more like it, because every time Castiel visited the salvage yard, he would glare at Dean like the mere sight of him was making him nauseous. A couple of times, he sat around the yard waiting for Bobby to finish up, and Dean felt the prickle of that intense stare at the back of his head, and it made him uncomfortable. Because even if Castiel was being cold to him, he still felt… _things_... whenever he was around. Things that made him bothered and confused, and frankly, kinda scared. So he did the only thing he could do.

He got a girlfriend.

That solution only lasted for a couple of weeks then he moved on to another girl. She was a pretty brunette with big blue eyes, and she was really good at giving head. Now, that solution lasted a bit longer… until Dean realized the girl was practically a Castiel replacement and he started imagining Castiel on his knees instead of the girl, his pink lips stretched around him and swallowing him whole. He broke up with that one after a month and got a curvy, blonde cheerleader next.

He thought he was doing pretty okay with having and changing “girlfriends” every now and then that he could almost, almost fool himself into believing he didn’t feel anything for Castiel. Until, of course, that one night when he saw Castiel for only about a minute… and he felt everything.

    

                +++

    

 

Dean’s idea of fun consisted of playing soccer with his buddies, hanging out with Sammy, working on restoring classic cars with Bobby, and playing his guitar and singing as loud as he could in his room. That last one was a bit of a secret, and only his dad and Sammy had ever heard him seriously singing, because, well they lived in the same house. He never tried to sing in public, or to anyone else, because he wasn’t very confident about his voice. So the only place for a closet singer like him was inside his room, where nobody could see or hear him and he could dress up occasionally in his ‘rocker’ outfit and pretend he was giving a concert. That was a full-proof plan… until one day while in the middle of his pretend concert, he heard a disturbingly loud crash from the house next door.

The thing was, Dean knew that broken window across from his used to open to one of Bobby’s storage rooms so he never bothered closing his curtains or his window whenever he was in one of his ‘moments’. It hadn’t even occurred to him that someone might be sleeping inside the other room until the planks that held the window shut were suddenly broken into pieces to reveal a bedroom. Castiel’s bedroom.

Dean was stunned, to say the least. Because one, someone else heard him singing; two, that someone happened to be Castiel; and three, that someone was wearing an equally stunned expression and a pair of blue boxers and nothing else. Dean’s throat immediately went dry because dear god, his hair was damp, and there was so much skin… and his nipples were hard from the cold—and it was insane how quickly Dean felt his pants become too tight. Then those blue eyes slowly dragged down Dean’s body and it flipped a switch inside Dean’s brain, his self-preservation instinct finally kicking in. He jolted out of his seat and turned away from the window to hide his reaction because those leather pants were tight to begin with, and they hid close to nothing. That, and he had never been more embarrassed in his life. So now, he was shocked and embarrassed and uncomfortably aroused and it was screwing with Dean’s ability to think straight. He knew of only one thing to do—he got mad.

He strode purposefully to the window to threaten bloody murder at Castiel if he ever spilled to anyone else, but Castiel beat him to the punch. He knew exactly what Dean was going to say, and Dean could do nothing else but gape at him. And damn him if his voice, serious as ever, went straight to Dean’s current… difficulty.

The moment Dean heard Bobby’s voice, he bid a hasty retreat and closed his window and yanked the curtains together. He leaned against the window and realized for the first time how heavily he was breathing. He looked down at the straining bulge in his pants and spat out a curse.

That night marked the first time (of many countless times) he jerked off to the image of Castiel in his mind.

    

                +++

    

The thing was, Dean never had anything against gay guys. In fact he was pretty sure Michael and Nick from his soccer team had a thing going on between them, but he didn’t object in the very least. It didn’t even make him feel awkward changing in the locker rooms with them. They were cool, they just happened to be gay for each other, and Dean totally understood that. But for some strange reason, it freaked him out when he realized he could very well be gay himself. Or maybe he wasn’t, he didn’t know.

He still liked girls; that much he was certain of. But he didn’t like other guys the same. He felt uncomfortable if he tried to think of other guys in a sexual or romantic way. But Castiel was different. He felt things with him that he didn’t feel with other guys… and more significantly, with any of the girls he had dated as well. Castiel was special. Why? Dean didn’t quite know. And if anything, Dean prided himself on always being in the know and in control. He took care of their home whenever his dad was out of town on business (which was most of the time), and he took care of Sam’s needs. He even got a spot in the student council so that he could have more control of things at school as well. But that all had gone down the drain ever since Castiel arrived. For the first time in his life, Dean was clueless and confused. And he didn’t like it one bit.

And Castiel, well, it seemed he didn’t like Dean one bit either, which was another mystery to Dean. Because if there was another thing Dean knew all too well, it was that he was _very_ easy to like. But he supposed you really can’t please everybody. There was bound to be someone who didn’t like Dean, and it happened to be Castiel. And the Vice Principal, Mr. Adler. But he didn’t give a rat’s ass about that old geezer anyway, so there was no use worrying about that. He worried about Castiel not liking him though. A lot. And he wondered how he could change that. He wondered what it would take to be close to Castiel. To be his friend at least.

    

                +++

    

Apparently, you had to be Sam Winchester to be Castiel’s friend.

He discovered this fascinating fact on Rufus’ birthday. After Jo grilled him about Bobby’s new charge, he found himself telling her a number of things about Castiel he didn’t even realize he knew until it came out of his mouth. He might have implied to her that he felt uncomfortable around Castiel, although he skillfully managed to keep the main reason for that under wraps.

“Maybe you just don’t know how to get along with him yet,” Jo had told him.

And Dean had to nod in agreement. When it came to Castiel, there were many things he didn’t know.

“You’ll learn to, eventually,” Jo added.

And Dean couldn’t agree more. In fact, her words spawned a very good idea in Dean’s head. If there were things he didn’t know, then he could just take time to learn them. He could study Castiel and see what he liked, then maybe things would be less awkward. And maybe, he could even get rid of the _urges_ … or at least learn to live with them.

So it was then that Dean made up his mind to learn about Castiel, and the first new thing he learned was that Castiel, with the right amount of pressure, was willing to give up his solitude and personal space without so much as a fight. And apparently, Sam had learned about this first because Dean found him at Rufus’ living room looming over Castiel’s shoulder in an attempt to sneak a peek at the book he was reading.

Castiel noticed him too (he wasn’t really very discreet about it anyway), and Sam smiled sheepishly and said something or another, and then Castiel was showing him the book and Sam beamed and the next thing Dean saw surprised him. Sam decided to squish himself beside Castiel in the armchair and started reading along with him. Apparently, it surprised Castiel as well, but then Dean watched him shrug and move the book closer to Sam so he could read it better.

And at that moment Dean didn’t know what he was feeling exactly as he watched them from afar, Sam occasionally asking Castiel something, and Castiel answering and pointing out lines and flipping back pages to explain things to Sam. He was happy Sam and Castiel seemed to hit it off, and he was proud of his brother for having the courage to approach Castiel even if he was intimidating at times (or maybe that was just to Dean). But, he was secretly also very jealous of Sam. Why couldn’t he have approached Castiel like that as well? Maybe asked him about a book, or about class, or even about the weather. Anything. Granted, his first few tries at conversation with Castiel were less than stellar, but he had had plenty of opportunities to approach Castiel again. But he never did because he was confused and afraid of what he was feeling for him. Confused because he had never felt like this about anyone else, and afraid because if he got close to Castiel and he started getting less confused and more certain about his feelings, he might find out something about himself, and he might end up not liking it.

And that was when Dean realized what he needed to learn the most. He needed to learn about himself, about what he really wanted, about what he really felt. He needed to be absolutely sure he was no longer confused or clueless if and when he finally approached Castiel and attempted friendship (at the very least) with him. Because if he came to him half-assed and unsure of what he wanted, he could really screw things up. And if anything, he wanted to get this right. He needed to get this right.

    

                +++

    

It took Dean three years to learn about himself and be really sure of what he wanted, and even then, he still screwed things up.

He wanted to be with Castiel. He wanted to watch old movies with him, he wanted to spend lazy afternoons with Castiel as they eat chips on top of a car in Bobby’s yard, he wanted to do homework and study for exams with Castiel in the living room, and he wanted to see Castiel on the bleachers watching him play in a match, and maybe even cheering for him.

He wanted to go to college together with Castiel. He wanted to have Castiel sitting on the passenger seat of the Impala as he drove them to and from campus, he wanted to spend his free periods with Castiel just lounging on the porch, or eating burgers and pie at the nearby diner, and dear god, he wanted to wake up to the sight of Castiel sleeping beside him in bed.

It was cheesy, and way too girly, and Dean would cringe and threaten to puke if it weren’t so frigging true. It was exactly what he wanted. And he cursed himself for being such an idiot and only realizing all of this the moment Bobby told him Castiel was leaving.

He supposed he deserved it. The irony was cruel, really. The moment he realized he wanted to be with Castiel was also the moment he found out he couldn’t. He was being punished by some unknown force, maybe God, for taking so long to get his shit together. And now Castiel was leaving even before he got to set things right, and Dean couldn’t allow that. Castiel had to stay. He had to.

And that night, Dean didn’t sleep a wink, thinking of something, anything to keep Castiel from leaving.

What happened the next day would haunt Dean for the rest of his life.

He could give a million and one excuses for what he’d done. But the fact remained. He hurt Castiel. He hurt him so bad that even Dean couldn’t forgive himself. He wanted to go straight to Castiel’s home the next day, to fall on his knees and beg for forgiveness. It was a miracle that Cas even forgave him, a miracle that Cas still loved him despite everything he had done.  Castiel was too good for him. He deserved someone better. Someone who would never hurt him like that.

But Dean was also selfish. No matter how much he thought Castiel deserved a better person in his life, Dean didn’t want to let him go. He couldn’t bear to see Castiel with someone else, to have Castiel be happy with Dean out of his life. No. Dean wanted to be with him. He wanted Cas to look at him and only him. He wanted to make it up to him. He wanted to prove he could do it. He wanted to _be_ that better person for Cas.

    

                +++

    

The sound of someone knocking jolted Dean out of his reverie. The door opened, and bright light poured into the room. “Dude, you okay?” Sam asked. “We were beginning to think you already collapsed. Either that or you jumped out the window already,” he teased.

Oh Sam. Dean missed him. Sam was back from Stanford for the holidays. Though this time, he brought a girl.  Her name was Jess and she was perfect for Sam. Plus, she baked some pie for their Christmas dinner. Dean liked her already.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Dean asked, straightening his back again to try and look more composed.

Sam gave him his ‘who-are-you-kidding?’ look and Dean just shrugged. “I’m fine,” Dean answered.

“If you’re done reminiscing or thinking of ways to escape… dinner’s almost ready. Bobby just arrived with the beer, and dad’s already got a hold of them,” he told Dean.

 “And Cas?” Dean asked, trying to remove the nervousness from his voice.

Sam smiled. “Cas is putting the angel back on top of the tree. For like the third time just tonight.”

“Damn thing keeps falling. I told him he should’ve gotten the star instead,” Dean complained, though there’s only fondness in his voice.

“Yeah well, he thinks you’re up here coz you don’t wanna help with preparing the table. Should I tell him you’re just trying to find your balls?”

Dean sneered at Sam. “My balls never left the building, thank you very much.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

“Dean? Sam?” They heard Castiel’s voice from downstairs. “Dinner’s ready,” he informed them.

At the sound of Castiel’s voice, Dean’s heart started hammering.

“I’m coming,” Sam called out. Then he turned to Dean. “You ready?”

Dean took a deep breath and stood up. He placed a hand in his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. He opened the box, stared at the contents for a few moments and closed it with a snap. He pocketed the box again and looked at Sam, who was beaming at him from the door.

Dean smiled. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

**The End.**     


End file.
